A/N: This is more of a prologue to the story that I've been working on. I wanted to establish Draco and Hermione's relationship and the time they spent together working on the cabinet. I got my original inspiration from the song Stone by Jaymes Young.

I own nothing, yada yada yada, thanks so much for reading!

Draco had never really agreed with Voldemort's order, not really. He knew that Muggleborn witches and wizards were just as good as Purebloods- you didn't go to school with Hermione Granger for six years and not know she was smarter than the entire ministry combined- and he'd never had a real problem with Muggles, but his parents had insisted that Voldemort was right, and he'd had no choice but to accept that.

Then He had risen, and Draco had realized how wrong they really were- how deranged their master truly was- but his parents wouldn't listen. They had let Him into their home, served at His beck and call, given Him anything He wanted- including their only son. He had taken the mark after his father's imprisonment as an attempt to keep his mother safe, but he knew it was nothing but a fool's errand. The only way to truly help his parents was to ensure the downfall of the Dark Lord.

When he had been tasked with killing Dumbledore, Draco knew he wouldn't be able to do it, he knew the Dark Lord was setting him up to fail so that he would be able to kill both him and his mother. The assignment was nothing more than a punishment for Lucius's imprisonment, but if he failed, his mother would die and Draco couldn't let that happen.

He spent every waking hour trying to come up with a way to save both his mother and himself, failing time and time again to fulfil his tasks. The day Hermione found him in the Room of Requirement was the same day that his marble facade finally cracked. His first attempt to kill Dumbledore had been an absolute train wreck, he'd only found the cabinet the previous week and had yet to be able to open it let alone fix it, he could barely sleep from his nightmares and the soul crushing anxiety that plagued him every second of every day was starting to make him feel like he was going mad.

"FUCKING FUCK FUCK FUCK!" he screamed, blasting a stack of chairs to smithereens.

"You're a bit old for tantrums, don't you think?"

He hadn't heard the door open- he didn't even know anyone could find the door when he was inside- and at the sound of her voice he turned and shot a bookcase at her.

Hermione barely even flinched as she raised her wand and sent it flying in the opposite direction.

"Well, that was uncalled for," she huffed, hands on her hips. "Honestly, use your damn words."

"What the fuck are you doing her, Granger?" he growled. "How did you even get in here?"

"You don't own the room, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes.

"I got here first, I get the room!"

"Would you stop acting like a child?" Hermione snapped. "It's embarrassing!"

"You know what, Granger, you don't know a thing about me or my life or really anything at all! So why don't you just stick to what you know- being an annoying little bookworm!"

"That's exactly what I was trying to do. So if you would kindly clear out, I'll get back to my books."

"Forget it, I was here first!" Draco scoffed. "And I have far more important things to worry about than your ability to answer every bloody question in every bloody class!"

"Really?" Hermione demanded, her fists balled angrily and her eyes filled with fire. "Well please, Malfoy, enlighten me. What could possibly be so important that you would lower yourself to arguing with a mudblood, just to get your precious little room."

"Well, let me see. Voldemort is holding my mother hostage and threatened to kill her and me if I didn't take the Dark Mark in my father's place. Upon taking that mark he tasked me with murdering our Headmaster- a task that, if not completed, will result in the death of myself and my mother. I also have to fix this fucking cabinet, that no one has ever figured out how to fix, so that the Dark fucking Lord can get the rest of his followers in here to make sure that I get the job done. So I think my desperate attempts to save my mother's life are a good fucking reason, don't you?!"

Draco breathed heavily, his face red from shouting and his fists balled like Hermione's. Underneath all that anger, Hermione saw the desperation and the sadness that he was trying to hide- she saw the empty look in his eyes and her heart went out to him.

Without giving it too much thought, she stepped towards him with her arms open.

"What are you doing?" Draco demanded, putting his hands out to stop her and taking a step back.

"It's called a hug, Malfoy," she rolled her eyes. "It's a gesture used to comfort someone when they're having what appears to be a nervous breakdown."

Ignoring his uncomfortable protests, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him down to her level. When she felt his arms encircle her, she'd thought she'd be scared or disgusted, but she didn't. Instead, she smiled. And when he started to sob, she didn't back away, she just held him a little tighter and kept quiet while he let out years of pent up anger and fear.

"It's going to be okay," she said soothingly.

When Draco was finally able to calm down, Hermione dragged him over to one of the room's many couches and forced him to sit.

"You need to go to Dumbledore," she said. "He'll be able to help you."

"Did you miss the part where I told you I'm supposed to kill him?!" Draco demanded. "I don't think he'll take very kindly to knowing that- even if I have been absolute shite at it."

"I think he'll be quite pleased to know that you'd rather not," Hermione offered. "People tend to like it when they find out someone doesn't want to kill them."

"Yeah, well I can't tell him," he shook his head. "He'll know, and then my mother will die."

Hermione frowned at this, her face taking on the same expression it did when she was working on a difficult potion.

"So if you don't get the cabinet working, He'll kill your mother and probably you," she said slowly. "And if you don't kill Dumbledore, he'll definitely kill you both. It sounds like he just wants to kill you."

"That's because he does," Draco sighed.

"Why don't you just leave?" Hermione asked, seriously confused. "The Order would help you, they would find you somewhere safe."

"My mother will never leave the Manor, and my father will never stop believing that the Dark Lord knows best," he shrugged. "They're all I have, though, I can't leave them."

At this, Hermione fell silent again, her brow furrowed as she thought about his situation, all the while studying him like he was a new edition of 'Hogwarts: A History'.

"I'll help you," she said with finality.

"Excuse me?" Draco looked at her like she had lost her mind.

"With the cabinet," she nodded. "I'll help you try to get it working."

"Because you've suddenly decided to join the Deatheaters?!" he gaped.

"No, because you quite obviously don't want to be a part of this, and I think I can help with that."

"Granger, that's insane," he shook his head. "You can't help me."

"Malfoy, have you ever known me to back down from a challenge?"

"Why would you help me? We're not friends."

"Yes, you've made that abundantly clear over the last six years," Hermione assured him. "But I happen to believe that you don't actually want to have any part in this and want to do the right thing, and I'm willing to help you with that."

"And how do you plan to do that?"

"I'll make you a deal," she shrugged. "I'll help you with the cabinet, and in exchange I'll pass information you give me to Dumbledore, to pass to the Order."

She was insane. Completely, absolutely, certifiably insane. There was no way that she would do this for him- not after all the years he had spent torturing her. And yet, here she was, sitting on the floor next to him with the most sincere look on her face.

"Do you want to make a wizard's oath?" she offered, completely serious. "I'm not kidding, Malfoy. Let me help you."