'Why do I have to come with you?' Draco complains for the hundredth time, trying to keep the whiny edge out of his voice. Malfoys don't whine. But Malfoys also don't want to accompany their dad to Gringotts on a Saturday, a day where Draco had plans to do nothing and lounge around.

'Because I said so. Stop complaining.' Ah, the famous "because I said so". The most annoying reason a parent can give. Ever.

Draco huffs again. He did not plan on spending his morning surrounded by those creepy goblins.

Draco walks slightly behind his father in silence as they head towards the edge of the Manor. Like Hogwarts, the Manor has anti-apparition wards preventing people from apparating in or out of the Manor. Unfortunately the magic clearly didn't apply to that stupid house elf. To say that Draco had been surprised when his old family house elf had appeared quite suddenly to rescue Potter and his friends would be an understatement. The fact that the elf had then proceeded to giving a speech about being a free elf had left him speechless. And contemplative.

Draco had never really considered how house elves felt about serving people. Most of their house elves, especially Blinky, seemed to relish being a slave. But clearly that wasn't the case for them all. How many elves want to be free like Dobby?

Draco shakes his head. Why does he care? They're just slaves. Creatures that are below him. He doesn't care about their rights.

Reaching the end of the gate, Lucius lifts his arm and Draco grudgingly takes a hold of it, feeling the familiar pull of side-along apparition. His feet land firmly on the ground and Draco instantly takes a step back, separating himself from his father.

Lucius was a man that Draco had looked up to as a kid, adored him even, but after seeing him act to spinelessly in front of the Dark Lord, it was hard to maintain such respect. Draco couldn't help but blame Lucius for dragging him so deeply into the Dark Lord's plans. It had nearly got him killed after he had failed to kill that old oath Dumbledore. He had him wandless and at his mercy, but when it came down to it, Draco just couldn't kill him. He'd done nothing wrong.

So lost in his thoughts, Draco didn't register the commotion coming from the wizarding bank until he was right outside of the doors. His father strides into the building as if he owns the place, dragging aside a goblin that was hurrying past, holding his wand in front of him threateningly. 'What is going on?' he demands of the creature.

The goblin sneers at the elder Malfoy, clearly not appreciating being manhandled. Draco was mildly impressed by the action. Most wizards and creatures cower at the mention of the Malfoy name, let alone being addressed by one personally.

'Why should I tell you?'

Lucius practically snarls. 'Because I am Lucius Malfoy, server of the Dark Lord and I demand that you answer me.'

The goblin pauses, clearly weighing up what his rate of survival would be if he refused. Obviously he decides the odds aren't in his favour, as he grudgingly admits, 'Harry Potter and his friends have broken into Gringotts.'

Lucius practically throws the creature away from him, running down the corridor, following the sounds of explosions. Goblins yell at him that he can't go that way, but seem to know better than to stop him by force. Draco sighs, walking after his father. The idea of meeting the trio again so soon has his heart pumping, and an unwelcome image of Hermione enters his mind. Why his obsession with the bushy-haired witch has started so suddenly, he doesn't know. Except, if he thinks about it, maybe his obsession with her wasn't so sudden.

At school he always made an effort to verbally spar with her more often. It gave him great pleasure to wind her up. Of course, infuriating Potty and Weasel was always something Draco enjoyed, but he always got more of a kick when he could get under Granger's skin.

And though it pained him endlessly to admit it, she had looked mesmerising at the Yule Ball. For a muggle-born, of course.

Draco loses his train of thought as he catches up to his father, who is shooting spells at- is that dragon? Cool. He ducks behind a pillar as a spell he assumes one of the Golden Trio shoots fires past him.

'Call the Dark Lord! Potter's not getting away this time!'

His father's voice somehow carries across the frenzy, and Draco looks up, understanding. He pauses. If he calls the Dark Lord, this really will be the end of Potter and his friends. Is that what Draco wants? Sure, he's a pain in the ass, and Weasley he could do without, but does he really want them dead?

Clearly he paused too long for his father, who pulls up his own sleeve, ignoring the chaos surrounding him, and presses his wand to the spot. The mark darkens and slithers grotesquely and Draco knows the task is done. Seconds is all it takes for the familiar swirls of the Dark Lord's peculiar apparition to announce his arrival and Draco hears the worried yells of the Gryffindors.

This is it. This is the end of the war as it stands. The boy-who-lived will die, and Voldemort will be undefeatable. And what then? The first thing that will probably happen is the capture and possible slaughter of all muggle-borns. But will he stop there? The half-bloods probably won't be safe for long. And the muggles stand no chance, even with their fancy weaponry. It will be a massacre on a scale that the world has never heard of.

And suddenly Draco realises that that is not what he wants. He doesn't know what he wants, but he knows it's not that.

Draco watches as Voldemort fires a well-aimed killing curse, which would have hit Weasley square in the chest had he not been pushed out of the way by Granger. Draco wonders how many times the dunderhead duo would be dead by now if it weren't for the witch. She certainly seems to have saved their asses on multiple occasions.

The trio have held their ground so far, but being so outnumbered, it is possibly only minutes before they are taken down. Draco watches with horrific fascination as Hermione fires spell after spell at opponents, taking out Death Eaters and goblins alike, unwavering in her belief that they will make it out alive. She's like an avenging angel.

As the thought passes through his mind, Draco notices two things happen at once. Hermione fires an Expelliarmus at a Death Eater, and Lucius takes advantage of her distraction, firing a curse Draco hasn't heard of at the witch, a curse she has no chance of protective herself against. Without another thought or a moment's hesitation, Draco flings himself across the room, entering the battle for the first time, only not at all in the way he thought he would. The force of the curse alone sends Draco hurtling across the room, landing vaguely near where the trio are still furiously trying to fight their way out. An unbearable pounding assaults the young Malfoy's head, almost knocking him out instantly through the pain alone.

Struggling to maintain consciousness, Draco looks up into the most beautiful pair of chocolates eyes he'd ever seen, and vaguely notes the odd mix of concern and confusion that glimmer in them before he succumbs to the unbeatable pull of unconsciousness.

..

'What are you doing?'

'He's the enemy!'

'He'll turn us in!'

'He'll try to kill us!'

'Let's just kill him now!'

'WILL YOU TWO STOP IT!' Hermione screeches at the two boys as they soar over England on the back of a Ukrainian Ironbelly. The two conscious boys instantly shut up, but by the redness tinting Ron's face, he isn't happy about it. 'As much as it pains me to admit it, Malfoy saved my life. I don't know why and I don't know what it means, but I was not about to leave him there to die.'

'But 'Mione, it's Malfoy,' Harry says, trying to reason with the witch, who stubbornly raises her chin. 'He wasn't trying to save us, he was probably getting a better angle to kill us.'

'He also stopped Bellatrix,' Hermione whispers quietly, not wanting to talk about the incident that still haunts her thoughts. Her eyes drift absently to the lettering on her forearm, her fingers tracing the scar. As predicted, the wound had closed but it seemed it would be a permanent taint on her skin.

'We still don't know that,' argues Ron. 'You could just be trying to defend-'

'I know what happened!' yells Hermione. 'Trust me, I hate this as much as you do, but I don't bloody-well have a choice, now do I?'

'We could just-'

'If I hear you suggest we push him off this dragon one more time Ronald Weasley, I will push you off of this dragon.'

Ron shuts up, his jaw clenching. Tension fills the void that silence creates, and Hermione turns to the blonde balanced precariously across her lap. Whilst adamant in defending him to the boys, she was still unsure of his actions herself. It had certainly looked like he had thrown himself in front of his father's curse, but what if he hadn't? Is Hermione just being too optimistic? The fact is that it is entirely possible that as soon as Draco regains consciousness, he will summon the Dark Lord and then they'll all be in danger again, but Hermione can't shake the idea that that is wrong, that he won't betray them. She subconsciously drags a stray bit of his white-blonde hair out of his face and can't help but notice how different he looks asleep than awake. The scowl that she thought was permanently etched into his face is replaced with a childlike sort of innocence, the sneer faded into an almost smile.

She would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that the boy was attractive. He wasn't known as the Slytherin sex-god for nothing. His strong jawline and defined cheek bones radiated prestige, and though they weren't visible, Hermione had always been fascinated by those silver grey eyes.

Having acted on instincts and levitating Malfoy onto the beast with the fleeing Gryffindors, Hermione had tried to ascertain exactly what type of spell he had been hit with. There were no external injuries, and she had eventually realised that the spell targeted the brain, rendering the subject unconscious and causing internal bleeding in the head. Fortunately, having been on the run with Harry and Ron for months, Hermione had become quite proficient in healing spells, and after a spell to eradicate the bleeding, and a further one to reduce trauma, she had been satisfied that he would make a fine recovery. He has yet to regain consciousness though, and Hermione is still unsure whether to consider it a positive or a negative. It could be indicative of further injury, or could just be the body naturally recovering. And if he does wake, what should Hermione do? On top of a dragon is hardly the best place for a duel.

But thinking about it, Hermione hasn't noticed his wand. Disciplining herself for not thinking of it sooner, Hermione raids Draco's pockets. After searching his entire body, she comes to the conclusion that he must have dropped it after being hit. That's not going to help the whole anger situation when he wakes up, but it is slightly reassuring that he'll have to rely on wandless magic if he chooses to attack. And he's outnumbered.

Feeling safer, Hermione leans back slightly, accidentally coming into contact with Ron's muscled chest. Despite the shortage of food over the few months the trio had been hunting Horcruxes, Ron had somehow maintained his chiselled physique, and Hermione mildly enjoys the sensation of his biceps rippling as he wraps an arm around her waist. She tries to relax into the hold, but can't shake the sensation of unease. When did it become so uncomfortable to be hugged by Ron?

..

Peeling back his heavy eyelids, consciousness slowly returns to Draco.

There is a throbbing in his head and his back aches from what appears to be a rather uncomfortable bed. The space around him is unfamiliar. What happened?

Dragging his gaze across the surrounding area, trying to recollect the events of the day, Draco observes a small wooden table in the centre of the room, with some books scattered haphazardly on top. A bunkbed lies directly across the room from him, with an untidy duvet strewn across each bed. A lamp hovers in the centre of the room, some sort of charm placed on the object to keep it glowing, and beige drapes surround the entire room. Is this a tent?

As the idea crosses his mind, a part of the drapes is pulled back, which Draco realises to be a door, and in walks none other than the Weasel himself. Memory of the fight in Gringotts and the resulting curse he had received from his father comes rushing back to him, and Draco groans at the realisation that it wasn't just a bad dream.

At the noise, Ron's blue eyes instantly flash towards Draco lying on the bed, and he halts, drawing his wand.

Fumbling around for his own wand, Draco soon realises that he is unarmed and at the mercy of the stupid ginger. He can't rely on Weasley's temper not flaring up, despite the fact that Draco seems to have been so far unharmed by the trio. At least if it were Granger, he could reason with her; make her see the sense of not killing him.

'Don't move, Malfoy,' Ron spits, keeping his wand trained on the blonde.

'Where do you expect me to go?' Draco asks sarcastically, motioning with his head to his wrists which he realises are cuffed to the bed.

Ron eyes the Slytherin warily before turning to the entrance of the tent. 'Harry, Hermione!' he calls. Almost instantaneously, the two enter the enclosed space, searching for any source of danger.

Hermione's eyes instantly fall on the blonde, noting his conscious sentient state. 'Oh thank goodness you're awake,' Hermione mutters and Draco's jaw drops. Did Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor Princess actually just show concern for his wellbeing? Realising she'd said her thoughts aloud, Hermione rapidly explains, 'I mean, it's just that you were injured, and it seemed you'd tried to save us, and I wasn't sure why you hadn't woken up yet, I mean you've been out for four days and-'

Draco stops her. 'I've been out for four days?' he demands, trying to sit up straight within the limited space of the restraints.

'Yes,' Hermione informs him, more composed now. 'Whatever spell your father used, it was a nasty one.'

Draco chuckles darkly. 'My father isn't exactly known for using nice spells.' When silence falls awkwardly over the group, Draco clears his throat, 'so, umm, what happened?'

'We were hoping you could tell us,' says Harry, having remained silent up until that point. Draco raises his eyebrows. 'Why did you throw yourself in front of the curse?'

'A thank you would be nice,' grumbles Draco, not in the mood for attempting to explain something he doesn't understand himself.

'Thank you,' whispers Hermione. 'I know you probably don't care, but I'm pretty sure that curse was aimed for me, and you saved me. So, thank you.'

For the second time that day, Draco is left speechless by something Hermione says. First concern, now gratitude, Draco thinks he must still be unconscious and this is some weird dream. He pinches himself to make sure, and the action does not go unnoticed by the Weasel, who huffs out a laugh. 'Just because you're incapable of showing any positive emotion, doesn't mean our Hermione can't.'

Draco's eyes flicker back to Hermione's chocolate brown orbs and finds he can't look away. This does not seem like the Granger he knew back in school. The Granger he knew back in school was a bushy-haired know-it-all who got lived in the library and got under his skin better than anyone else.

But standing in front of him is a Hermione Granger who seems broken by the war. She looks- well, she looks like a woman. Even under the baggy clothes she is wearing, Draco can tell she has grown some curves, and her bushy hair doesn't seem so unappealing anymore. In fact, he can just imagine getting his hands all tangled up in-

Draco pauses, ridding himself of his thoughts. What the hell was that?

The silence clearly being too uncomfortable for her, Hermione says, 'anyway, it seems we have a lot to talk about. But first, I'm guessing you're going to want some food.'

Author's Notes: So here's another chapter! I don't know how often I will be able to publish new chapters, but I'm hoping to do at least on a week. As always, please leave a review! Thanks :)