Disclaimer: This fanfiction is based on J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series. I do not own anything other than my computer.

Warning: Blatant disregard for half of Rowling's Deathly Hallows, and her epilogue (I'm sorry!).

Rated M for safety and some (possibly) disturbing scenes.

Prologue

Draco Malfoy – progeny of renowned Death Eater Lucius Malfoy; destined to follow in his father's footsteps – was making his rounds in Hogsmeade.

He was alone, as was usual fare for a Junior Death Eater. Dispensable.

Which probably was a good thing that night.

Because nothing could have prepared him for the curious sight in he had stumbled upon. Patrols were never this exciting, even if it was just a shivering figure hunched-over in a dark alley, one of numerous dark alleys that now seemed to make up Hogsmeade.

The village where children used to visit as a reprieve from the stress from school; where they used to stock their arsenal of practical jokes, which generated much laughter (and even more detentions).

Now, all that was left were empty streets. Nobody, bar Death Eaters on sentry duty, dared wander out onto the streets without preparing to Apparate the next moment. So a figure, obviously underdressed for winter, in an obviously visible pink jacket was a surprising break in the monotony.

He turned to his left, pretending to look down the opposite alley, discretely glancing in the direction he'd come from. They were alone as far as he could see.

He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes to go until the end of his shift. He sighed. Might as well get it over and done with. It'd be his head if something happened on his watch.

Apprehensively, he approached the trembling mess, trying to determine its identity before he was too close to back away. Was it a test; a trap? It wouldn't do to die for his curiosity, not that he had much to look forward to in life; taking orders was hardly his idea of fun, dodging Resistance attempts didn't quite float his boat either.

He was five feet away and from the little amount of light spilling through the fogged glazing in the door, could conclude that the trembling was from a combination of sobs and shivers, and that what he had initially assumed to be a small creature was actually a human girl, a very familiar girl.

Granger with her bird's nest. Shit! How did I not recognise that?

He panicked. His first reaction was to leave, and leave he did. Always trust your instincts, he had learnt from accumulated experience.

Without another look, he walked out of the alley, his heart pounding.

All he could think of was that she shouldn't be there, not with her magical abilities. Even the Gryffindor Know-it-all Princess was cowering in a back alley, what hope did he have of surviving the war?

Halfway through the sixth random alley he had blindly taken, he stopped. He couldn't wipe the image of the pitiful girl out of his mutinous head. Not in the first alley, not in the second, and definitely not in the sixth. He cursed, and reluctantly turned back to the direction where he had come from.

Always trust your instincts but never follow them unless you've been ordered to, he had learnt from recent experience. He was following orders now, he told himself, it was his responsibility to report any suspicious activity in Hogsmeade.

After several wrong turns and near-stumbles on the cobbled streets in his confusion and indecision, he finally came upon the now familiar sight. Only this time, the trembling was slightly less intense and none of it from the sobbing.

Shaking his head at his impulsiveness, he nearly turned back again upon seeing the actual state she was in (and how much work he might have to do). She seemed to be clutching at what remained of her clothes, slightly ripped and hardly sufficient in the cold of the night.

What made him stay was the fact that lying further down the alley was a motionless entity in a pool of blood. A strip of dark red fabric, coloured even darker by his blood, was tied around his arm; a Snatcher. It wasn't in their policy to travel alone. She was lucky they hadn't found her, yet.

It seemed as though the decision was already made for him.

The dagger dropped so carelessly on the ground was vanished and he directed an Obliviate at the nameless man (better safe than sorry), then extended a hand towards the girl. No response came. He forced himself to look at her. Her head was still down, in a fashion so unnatural for such a usually-feisty person.

He sighed impatiently, and started to haul her up as roughly as he could let himself be. What came next, he could have sworn he saw coming.

Her shrill voice assaulted his frayed nerves, her legs kicked haphazardly and dangerously close to his most precious, and somehow, her hands still remained pressed close to her chest.

Why she decided to scream only then, was a mystery to him.

Patience running thin and time running out, Draco raised his wand once again: Petrificus Totalus! There was no way that she was going to survive alone, now that anyone within a three-mile radius would have been alerted to her presence.

Without another thought, he pulled her to her feet, almost losing his balance. He vaguely heard the closing of a door. Clutching onto his childhood nemesis, he Disapparated, mere seconds before they were seen.

It was at that last instant when he noticed a broken wand in the spot she had previously occupied.

A/N: Hey guys, did a rewrite of this chapter because the original was full of convoluted sentences in order to sound smart. Definitely not a smart move.

Some minor bits have been corrected as well.

Thank you to those of you who have seen past the terrible first attempt and still continued to read.

Thank you to those of you who now will continue to read it.