A/N:

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter the book, the plot or the movie. This entire story is a fabrication out of J.K. Rowling's world. This story is made purely for fun laughter peace and joy!


Chapter 1

Sixth Year, Hogwarts

The room was dim but that did not bother him. What light there was available was focused on the only thing worth seeing.

Bound in ropes on a chair in the middle of the room, she was pretty brightly lit considering how dark the rest of the room. She couldn't have known that, however, blindfolded as she was.

He walked closer, faintly registering the soft thumps of his own footsteps. . He stared at the figure before him and wondered how she'd ever end up in this position. It was not like her to get trapped like this.

As her breath shortened, he knew that she could sense his presence. It made him smirk and he took a seat in a chair that had appeared just for him. As the blindfolds fell away from her face, he watched as her eyes focused on to him and her lips fell apart.

"Draco."

Draco's eyebrows rose in mild surprise. She had called him by his given name. It was so soft and familiar, but he was getting ahead of himself. Her eyes soon narrowed and her voice grew harsh.

"What do you what from me, Malfoy?"

That was more like it. That was how she would talk to him nowadays, when she bothered to.

"Just a chat."

She rolled her eyes.

Draco paused, he couldn't remember if she rolled her eyes anymore. It had been quite some time since he last saw he do it; he had been watching. Then his thoughts took an abrupt turnabout. Blindfolded and strapped to a chair, shouldn't she be afraid or had being part of the Golden Trio eroded all fear from her? She used to be scared of so many things.

He stared at her, soaking up her defiance. He hated the way she looked at him but another part of him craved it. He watched and they played a game of who would blink first. Slowly, he could see fear seep into her eyes. He got a shot of pleasure from being right, for scaring her, but it was short-lived as he again wondered how she managed to get herself captured. It wasn't like her at all and the room was too quiet.

"Malfoy." She spat out again, but it was half-hearted if anything. Not quite as vicious as before.

Draco briefly thought he was going soft when she looked at with uncertainty.

"We're going to talk."

She rolled her eyes again and it irked him because he hadn't seen her do it in a while.

"Sure, what would you like to talk about; the weather? I hear it's going to rain tomorrow. Or perhaps you'd like to talk about why Professor Binns decided on a fifteen foot long essay on 'The Disappearence of Grufflesnuck Island'. Heaven knows nobody is looking for it. Unless of course, the real reason you've captured me is to get me to spill out all of Harry's secret brooms moves. You know he is still going to kick your arse at the game on Saturday."

Draco sneered. He didn't capture her and it wasn't like her to be this snarky. She must have realised that as her features immediately softened up.

"I want you to tell me the truth."

"Fine." She replied, turning her head to look away from him.

Draco felt a stirring just above his stomach that reminded him faintly of nausea. Again, she was so out of character but who was he to decide who she was now?

"Do you remember the tree?"

He stared at her intently, almost holding his breath. This is all he'd ever wanted to know. Just knowing would be enough. He could guess everything else. He stayed silent; his want to know the truth was far greater than any answer he wanted her to give.

But she was quiet and looking away from him.

"Look at me!" He commanded and she turned her head back towards him, looking at him with confusion.

He closed his eyes in frustration and pursed his lips. Every time he did this, the result was the same. She was always silent at the most crucial question and Draco was getting impatient. He had enough of being in the dark, of not knowing. He was sick of guessing and hoping, tired of trying to look for signs that she remembered. He wanted to know. He wanted to know now.

"What happened? Did they find you? Did they wipe your memory? Or are you just refusing to remember?" He demanded.

And yet, quiet she remained.

Her brown eyes held no emotion and her lips refused to move. To be honest, Draco didn't even know what to do.

He just knew that no matter how many times he repeated this process he would never know, but repeat it he would. It was his getaway, his own little reminder that there was something before now, before shite happened, before life happened.

Thoughts flashed through his head, his father, his mother, his house, his mission. It was dragging up memories he'd rather leave alone. Draco felt his anger pool and he stood up abruptly. The room warped and he saw flashes of colour as the room tried to show him images at the same speed they appeared in his mind. As they swarmed around him, he caught glimpses of the images like the cupboard in his room and the grandfather clock in his father's drawing room. His father's drawing room…

Draco drew his hands into fists and clenched down his teeth. Anger and despair bubbled within him. He wanted to yell, to scream. He wished he could curse his father for what he's done. He wished –

All of a sudden, the room stopped spinning and Draco was standing in front of that cursed cabinet. Draco was so sick of this. How could he do this? It was impossible. Every book in world said so. How was he, a sixteen-year-old supposed to do what no adult, no wizard had ever managed to do? How was he supposed to accomplish what the Dark Lord couldn't? No matter what they told him, he knew that the Dark Lord didn't know how to break into Hogwarts. Draco knew why he was given the honour of the task.

At first he was thankful that the Weasley twins' antics were so widely appreciated that stories, like the times when they stuffed Peeves in the vanishing cabinet, were re-told to first years, even in the Slytherin common room. At that point of time, he had felt elation, excitement, relief and hope that he could actually do something. But now, he wished he could set the cabinet on fire. He wished he could want it away but he couldn't, he wouldn't. It was the only way.

He looked away, refusing to look at the very thing he had been working on just an hour before. He hated this, he knew why him so he wasn't even going to bother to ask. He knew everything but could do nothing about it.

Draco let out a growl of frustration. He felt like punching something or breaking something. Immersed in violent thoughts that had become more common over the last few months, Draco heard glass break. The room had changed without him noticing. It was filled with glass and ceramic objects. Automatically, he picked up the closest one and threw it as hard as he could at where the cabinet had been. As the object broke with a resounding crash, Draco felt something akin to power rising in his chest. It felt good.

He picked up one more and threw it. Fuck his mission. He picked up another and another and another. Fuck his father. Fuck the Dark Lord and fuck the bloody inner fucking circle. As he continued smashing objects, he felt a growing awareness of his surroundings, his senses heightened. He didn't stop. He poured everything he felt; his uselessness, his anger, the futility of his task, the feeling of being stuck and the feeling of complete and utter worthlessness. Fuck them all!

He threw everything he could reach. As soon as he threw something, more would appear and Draco let himself go. Draco didn't even pause when he cut himself. He didn't stop when hot, angry tears blinded him and all he could see were bright, blurred images. He just kept on throwing and yelling.

He paused only when he started feeling faint. He stumbled to the ground as pain ripped through his head and across his eyes, throbbing harshly. He sat there, breathing heavily, one arm lying lifeless next to an outstretched leg while the other rested on the knee of his other, folded leg. A tiny voice in the back of his head acknowledged that he was lucky not to have fallen on any glass or ceramic pieces but Draco couldn't muster enough energy to care.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but his breathing calmed and he could no longer feel the tear tracks on his cheeks. As he stared at the ground, there was only one thought circling in his mind. I don't want to do this anymore. I want out.

He held onto the thought as he climbed to his feet. When he looked straight ahead, he saw a door leading to reality. Thanks, thought Draco dryly before he felt hopelessness wash over him.

He tried to ignore it and turned on the room instead. It was rather useless. It had many restrictions and its name was misleading. It didn't give you what you required. It gave what was required of it.

Draco took in a deep breath before walking out into the corridor. He managed to get out to the main corridor before he heard footsteps.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" A voice called from behind him.

He turned and surveyed the source of the voice. He was immediately hit with the 'memory' of interrogating her.

"What is it now, Granger?" He replied. If she wasn't going to give any hint that she remembered then he wasn't either. If she forgot then so would he.

"You're supposed to be patrolling the third floor, not the seventh."

He raised an eyebrow at her. She was taken aback by his cool demeanour and he certainly never raised an eyebrow at her before. She was half expecting him to start yelling 'mudblood' soon.

"I patrol the third floor on Mondays. Today is Thursday I do hope you know that." He said, looking intently for her reaction, hoping she would fall for his lie.

Now it was Hermione's turn to raise her eyebrows, "I thought you patrolled the seventh floor on Mondays?"

"Evidently not," he replied, indifferent.

"But- " she started.

"I didn't know you were in the habit of keeping tabs on my schedules Granger. And if I'm not wrong, aren't you supposed to be on the fifth floor of the north wing?" Draco shot back, giving her his signature smirk.

"I was on my way. I heard footsteps, yours obviously, and I was just performing my duty as prefect to investigate it." She said.

"Well done Granger, fantastic job, you should be awarded a Merlin First Class for catching a prefect out past curfew." He said sarcastically.

"Malfoy, I do not appreciate that tone and -" Hermione paused, "what happened to your hand?"

Draco looked down at the cut on his hand. Damn. He forgot to heal it. What was he going to say?

"Checking me out Granger? I'm flattered but please stop. I really don't need any more germs than I am currently inhaling."

"Of all the ego-centric -" Said Hermione, affronted. "I wasn't gawking Malfoy, I just noticed that's all."

Draco decided right there and then that he needed an answer to that question. He moved so that she backed up.

"Aw, Granger, you've finally noticed that I exist. What happened? You finally got bored with them and decided to come find me?"

Hermione gasped. Draco, being so near her, heard her. He smirked yet again, he finally got his answer. He steadily made the distance between them smaller.

"Wha…what are you…doing?" She breathed out, stuttering.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Honestly Granger, I know you're smart but sometimes I don't think you're quite right up there."

He looked into her eyes as he said it, wanting to know her reaction completely. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open ever so slightly.

"I…you..."

She couldn't say anything else and Draco smirked. He did like her reaction. Although, it meant she did remember, so why had she – Draco was stopped mid-though as Hermione suddenly pushed up his left sleeve and turned his hand.

As he looked down at his pale skin, he realised what she was looking for, Draco violently pulled his arm away from her. Something was cutting him inside. How dare she?

He glared and sneered and hoped she could see the hate in his eyes before stomping away.

Shite! His heart thumped in his chest. That was close. He should have known, should have been careful, Hermione was the smartest witch he knew. But the Dark Lord was smarter.

Draco's left hand absent-mindedly lifted to his right shoulder. At first, the precaution seemed to be very juvenile to Draco, but it was ingenious without trying. Everyone would only check the left forearm because everyone knew the Dark Lord honoured his loyal followers on the left.

Draco wanted to scoff. 'Branded' would be more accurate. While no one but the Dark Lord's inner circle had the mark, his own mark wasn't a reward for being loyal to the Dark Lord. No, it was a symbol of failure on his father's part. He reckoned it was just a way for the Dark Lord to exercise control over Draco's every movement as well as inflicting pain since Draco couldn't possibly respond to any summons.

Bloody shite. Hermione almost found him out. Then it hit him that Hermione thought he was a Death Eater. Well, she wasn't wrong. He had to be more careful, she was incredibly intelligent. His mind raced back to all the times she used her brains to help Saint Potter. He had always been particularly impressed the time she cast the Protean Charm in fifth year.

Draco's train of thought took a pause. The Protean Charm and the coins; it would work. For ages, Draco had been putting together a plan that would buy him some more time as well as leg room but couldn't get rid of a kink. Now he had the answer. He'd have to do a bit of research and he would need Crabbe and Goyle to help be lookouts while he was in the Room of Requirement. It wouldn't be good if Hermione caught him again. But first, he would take a detour to the prefect room. The master copy of the patrolling schedule was pasted on a notice board. Luckily Draco knew a spell that, if performed on the original, would change every other copy, including the copy the he was sure Granger had pasted in her daily journal.

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Hermione walked and walked and didn't look back. Her heart was pounding, practically banging against her ribcage. It hammered so hard that it hurt. She told herself to breathe in and out, but it didn't work.

Finally creating much needed space between herself and Draco, she went down to the library. Normally at this hour, the library was closed but as senior prefect in charge of patrolling duties, Hermione had special privileges and the one thing she asked for was to have after-hours access to the library which Madam Pince gave to her rather reluctantly.

She sat at the back, at her table, her sanctuary. But it didn't work, she was still breathing hard. Her heart refused to calm down. She couldn't believe the conversation she just had.

Her mind was filled with so many details that she couldn't concentrate. First of all, he was acting weird. Why would he do that? He came so close and then, his arm. It was bare. No mark. She would have to tell Harry.

Most importantly, why was he dragging up the past? Why did he want her to remember?

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Hermione held her mother's hand as they walked through the streets of London. It was very busy and there were many people. It was a Sunday and Hermione could see a few entertainers along the street. Suddenly a man came up to them.

"A balloon for the little girl?" Asked a man.

"Do you want one Hermione?" asked Mr Granger.

It wasn't often that her parents gave her presents and so when they did, she'd say yes.

"What shape do you want?" The man asked Hermione, kneeling so he could face her.

"Something nice." Replied Hermione.

"Hmm, something nice?" the man put a finger to the chin of his mask. His mask was split into two by a curvy line. One part was glittery gold and the other shiny black. Hermione could just make out his silvery eyes. His hair was most special, it was such a light blond that Hermione knew he had to be wearing a wig.

"How about a flower?" He asked.

Hermione nodded her head. While he twisted and turned the long balloon, he looked at Hermione.

"What's your name?"

"Hermione." She answered.

"That's a very nice name." Hermione thanked him. "How old are you?"

"Five years old." Said Hermione.

"Wow! Big girl. You have a very smart girl." The man said to Mr and Mrs Granger.

"Thank you." Said a smiling Mrs Granger.

"Here you go." Said the man as he passed the balloon flower to Hermione.

"How much?" Asked Mr Granger, taking out his wallet.

"Oh, it's free for the smart little girl." Said the man.

"What do you say Hermione?" asked Mrs Granger.

"Thank you sir." She said, smiling happily, holding her present.

"Hermione, do you think you could help me?" He asked and Hermione nodded.

He took out a thin wooden rod.

"What is this?" He asked her, mysteriously flourishing it.

"A stick." Said Hermione smartly.

"A stick? Oh no, it's much more than a stick. It's a wand!" Said the man enthusiastically.

"A wand?" Asked Hermione.

The man nodded his head, "A magic wand. Come let me show you my magic. Abracadabra!"

Hermione looked at him politely while her parents looked on amused.

"Nothing? No tingling feeling? Nothing? Wait a minute, something's wrong." Said the man as he tapped his wand against his palm. "Let me try again. Momintus Depandos!"

He flicked the wand around Hermione's face. Nothing happened. The man's whole body seemed to fall with disappointment. Mr Granger chuckled and said, "Well that's a new one."

Hermione looked at him with sympathy. She patted his shoulder and said, "It's okay, you'll do it next time."

He seemed to brighten up and said, "Yes, I will. Thank you, Hermione. I hope you like your balloon."

"Oh, very much." Said Hermione nicely as he walked away.

"That was nice of him." Said Mrs Granger.

"Oh yes, very entertaining." Said Mr Granger as they walked away.

Hermione happily walked away with her balloon.

That was the first time Hermione was introduced to the idea that doing magic required a wand.

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Age: 7

"Hermione, darling?" Called Mrs Granger.

"Yes mum?" She said, walking up to Mrs Granger.

"I'm going off now. Dad's already at the hospital. We'll be back late ok?" Said Mrs Granger, picking up her handbag.

"Yes mum." Hermione kissed her mother on her cheek.

At a tender age, Hermione Jane Granger was a very independent young girl. You could leave her on her own for the whole day and she wouldn't cry or tear her dress or upset the table.

"Your food is in the fridge. Remember, do not go near the abandoned house. It's dangerous, understand?" She asked, stepping out the door.

"Yes mum. Have a good day." Said Hermione.

"Good girl and don't open the door for strangers." She said before getting into her car and went off.

Hermione sighed. She loved her parents, she really did, but they were just so busy, all the time. It was going to be another boring day. Hermione was on holiday and had finished reading all her books. The library was too far to walk to. Deciding to go out, Hermione put on some sandals, took the keys and locked the door. The playground wasn't far away, it was just opposite her house.

Dejectedly, she sat on the swing and moved forward and back. Truth be told, Hermione was a very lonely six-year-old. Her best friend Tracy didn't talk to her anymore because the beast of a boy Raymond had teased her and called her the teacher's pet. Raymond was so popular that Tracy just left her and started calling her names too. She told Ms Anders and she scolded them but it just made things worse. Now they put stuff in her desk and on her chair. Raymond sat behind her and kept pulling her ponytail and calling her 'frizzy hair'. She told her parents about it and they said it was because her classmates were jealous that she was so smart. But if she was so smart then why couldn't she make them stop?

She twisted her foot on the ground, creating a small hole in the sand. Another question was why Mum kept telling her to stay away from the abandoned house. There wasn't one! It was supposed be to the back of the playground but all she saw were trees. Hermione bit her lip, maybe she could go and have a look? No, her mum told her not to. Well, thought Hermione, mum said not to go the abandoned house, she didn't say anything about a forest. Maybe it's a garden? After debating with herself, Hermione decided to take a very short peek. Just one, after all, no one would know.

Looking around her to make sure no one was looking, she got up and slowly walked to the trees. Just before she entered the 'forest', she looked back one more time, completely unaware of how much her life would change.

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Draco was bored out of his mind. His mother was holding a tea party and it was full of 'dos and don'ts'. He was sitting and letting all the cows pinch his tender cheeks. Pansy had come earlier, the simpering girl was more than he could stand. She always insisted on holding his hand and his mother and the witches would laugh and exclaim how sweet they looked together. Thank goodness she had to leave early. Draco had already finished two cups of tea and many biscuits, much to his mother's displeasure. Looking around aimlessly, Draco started shaking his leg.

"Draco! Stop shaking your leg, it is not gentlemanly." Scolded Narcissa.

He threw his mother a look and stopped shaking his leg.

"Don't look at me like that. It is unbecoming."

He huffed and started shaking his leg again.

"Draco, you may leave." Said Narcissa.

The minute he heard it, Draco bolted from his chair and out the door. Finally, he could breath. What to do first? Father bought him a book which changed its ending, but he read it twice already and today wasn't the kind of day you'd stay in and read. He could jump into the lake…but that wasn't so appealing. Draco jumped, he knew! Dobby had just finished building the tree house a week ago, he had been there only once. Draco looked over his shoulder to see if his mother was looking at him. Great, she wasn't. Draco ran all the way to the clearing just in front of the trees. His mother didn't like him running, she didn't like him sweating and getting smelly but his mother just didn't understand. He was a boy! He was supposed to run and get dirty and smelly. Well, mother wasn't ever a boy before, I guess I can't expect her to understand.

Draco had reached the tree, looking up, he was quite content with it. Suddenly, there was a rustling noise. Draco spun around. From between the trees, a girl came out. Her hair was simply horrible. It was all over the place. If his mother saw it, she'd have a fit! They stared at each other for a good long minute. He decided to find out who this person was and what was she doing in his garden.

Hermione looked at the stranger, he was much too pale and clean for a healthy boy. She was sure something was wrong with him. Hermione didn't know what to do, should she talk to him? Mum did say not to talk to strangers, but he looked her age, what harm could he do? Unable to take the intensity of his gaze she spoke.

"What are you doing here?-"

"- Hello, my name is Hermione."

They both spoke at the same time though they each had a different reaction.

"That's rude," said Hermione.

"Where do you live?" Asked Draco in a very straight-to-the-point voice.

"I live across the street. And who are you?" She said.

Draco looked at her up and down, "Across the street? Behind the trees?"

"Yes." She said.

"Are you a muggle?" Asked Draco shrewdly. His parents told him that behind the trees were muggles, a bunch of people who didn't know magic. Could you believe that? They didn't believe in magic! They were silly creatures and didn't deserve to magic. That's what his father told him.

Muggle? Pondered Hermione. She was quite proud of her vocabulary. She was often told that for a seven-year-old she spoke very well. So this boy must be better because she never heard the word before. She decided that the word wasn't a nice one, after all, it didn't sound nice. The boy hadn't said it nicely and also, his voice reminded her of Raymond and anything that had to do with Raymond couldn't be nice at all!

"Well, that's not a nice thing to say! And no, I'm not! I'm Hermione Granger and what is your name? I've asked you before."

Draco took one more look at her, unable to understand her, before answering, "I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Do you live here?" She asked.

"Yes." He answered, thinking that this Hermione Granger was a very strange girl.

"Is this your garden?" She asked again, looking around.

"Yes."

Hermione opened her mouth and Draco quickly cut her off.

"Why do you ask so many questions?"

Hermione instantly shut her mouth and looked shocked.

"My dad says it's good to ask questions." She said smartly.

"Well, my father doesn't like people asking questions and my mother says it's not gentlemanly to ask so many questions. If it's not gentlemanly then it isn't ladylike."

"Do you always play here?" Asked Hermione.

Draco shrugged. He wasn't afraid of her or anything. She was just a bit too demanding. This had fast become one of the longest conversations he had when he was actually talking. Crabbe and Goyle could never understand him and Pansy never wanted to talk. Blaise was okay, but they never got along much. That Zabini kept showing off. Draco didn't like him. Normally, he talked to his parents but they don't talk much either. The only time that a conversation lasts more than two minutes was when he was being scolded.

"Don't you ever go out?"

"Not beyond the gates or trees. But I get to go to Diagon alley and sometimes Hogsmeade."

Hermione stared Draco, he must be the weirdest boy she had ever met.

"Diagonally? Hog's meat? What are you talking about?" Asked Hermione incredulously.

"Haven't you ever been there? I've gone about ten times this year." Said Draco smugly, considering that it was February, he did have good reason to be smug.

"You mean those are places? I've never heard of them. Are they in Scotland or Ireland?" she asked. She heard her father talking about people who lived there. He said he couldn't understand their speech. Hermione heard it once, she found it very enjoyable, she liked it. However, this Draco boy didn't sound like any of them, he didn't have that cute accent… But since dad couldn't understand them and Hermione couldn't understand this boy, they must be related. It made perfect sense.

"Scotland?" Scoffed Draco. "You are a muggle."

Hermione didn't like this boy, he insisted too much.

"No I'm not."

"Muggles don't know magic. If you don't know Diagon Alley then you must be muggle." He said quite proud of himself.

"Magic? You don't still believe in fairy tales? I stop believing years ago." Bragged Hermione.

Draco frowned in confusion, "Fairies? Are you talking about pixies? Neither of them have tails…"

"You are weird." Said Hermione. "Have you seen an a-banned-doned house? My mum says there's an abandoned house, but I don't see any."

"Well, if you aren't a muggle then your mum is!" Said Draco, his father told him about the spell on the house and how muggles were so stupid that they could be tricked. But then, Hermione wasn't stupid because she didn't fall for it, but was she a muggle? She didn't know Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, so she must be…

"You are rude! Anyway, I'm going. I've spent too much time in the trees."

Draco felt disappointed, he didn't know why, maybe because she was the first one his age who wasn't stupid or unbearable.

"Will you come back?" He asked and immediately regretted it. His father told him to never show anything that could be considered a weakness.

Hermione stopped and looked at him curiously. He was sure that she would call him mad or something.

"Only if you want me to."

Draco was pleasantly surprised and gave a half-smile.

"I'll try to come soon. I don't know when I'll be able to come over. Maybe Monday." Said Hermione.

"Monday? That's a whole week!" Cried Draco and quickly tried to recover by acting unaffected.

"I know, but I'm not always let out. Mum doesn't like me to wander around. I only do it on Mondays because that's when they are the busiest. Well actually, they're always busy. But they are extra busy on Mondays."

"Okay." Said Draco sadly.

Hermione smiled at him before disappearing through the trees. The minute she left, Draco climbed into his tree house. Was what he was doing right? He was willingly letting a muggle girl into his life. Father told him how stupid they were but Hermione seemed okay. She was much better than Pansy, Crabbe or Goyle. He thought that maybe he could play with her. It wouldn't matter, he wouldn't tell Father or Mother.