Draco rolled the enchanted Galleon across his knuckles. Along the edge read a brief description of a portkey, where to find it, and what time it was to be activated. He waited for the correct time beside a dingy and empty apartment building, keeping his eye on a rusty watering can. He didn't approve of this location much. It was in the middle of a very shady Muggle neighborhood. He had worn Muggle clothes so not to attract any attention, but on the contrary, people seemed keenly aware and interested in his presence. He had donned a pair of black dress slacks and had a nicely pressed white button down shirt he wore under his green sweater. A matching tie seemed in order, he thought. So he wore one of those, as well. Now, in the twilight hours of the questionable neighborhood, he wished he had worn his robes so that people might think him insane and leave him alone.

A smooth, female voice cooed from his wristwatch. "Time to go," it said. Draco leaned down and graciously took the watering can. He walked around the corner where he would be alone and within a few seconds, the portkey was activated, and he was pulled away to his new location.

He was plopped down in the dark on the sandy surface of a beach, for which he was grossly overdressed. His dress shoes slid out from under him and he fell squarely on his buttocks. He heard a giggle from the shadows. Hermione stood next to the cliff face that ran along the beach with a ball of light forming at the tip of her wand. It lifted off and floated above them. Draco stood up and brushed the sand off of his clothes.

"Oh, ha, ha!" Draco mocked with his best sneer.

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and shook her head. Without a single word, she twirled her wand in a circle and the sand beneath their feet rose and took the shape of two chairs and a table. Furthermore, Draco realized, they changed from sand into glass. Hermione sat down and motioned Draco towards the other chair. He sat down, as well. He felt very uncomfortable with her magic. He, admittedly, had never seen anything like this and seriously doubted his ability to perform it if he had the opportunity.

"Well, I assume you are wondering where Ron is," Hermione said. As a matter of fact, Draco had forgotten for the time being. However, as always, Hermione didn't require an actual question to give an answer. "He isn't coming," she said firmly. "He feels as though this is something I can do on my own and, honestly, he doesn't want to have anything to do with you." She said this as if it was meant to cut Draco to the quick. It didn't though. "In fact, if it were up to me, I wouldn't have anything to do with you either." Draco looked up at her with raised eyebrows as if to say, "Well, too bad."

"I share his feelings, but," Draco fumbled around in his back pocket and pulled out a slender black cigarette, "it is his sister, after all." He slipped the cigarette between his lips and began lighting it with the tip of his wand. "I don't personally have any sense of sibling relationships, but doesn't that seem odd?" He got out a successful puff of smoke, but then the cigarette flew out of his hand.

"Are you serious?" Hermione asked indignantly. She had caught the summoned cigarette in her fingers. Draco reached out for it, but she quickly dropped it in the sand and put it out with her toe.

"Well, I have plenty more," Draco stated firmly. "Are you going to do that to every one of them?" Hermione simply crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Draco shrugged and lifted up his hands in surrender. "I guess you're calling the shots, here, Weasley."

Hermione sighed, "Why don't you just use my first name? There are a many people to which you could be referring."

"That's an understatement," Draco said. "Alright, Hermione, you can call me Malfoy."

"Certainly. I think we should keep this as non-colloquial as possible."

"Good," Draco retorted. Although, he had hoped his blatant unfriendliness would have gotten a more interesting reaction. "Well, let me update you on We—Ginny's situation."

Hermione listened far more attentively than Ginny had. She had plenty of questions—almost too many. It was grating on Draco's nerves. However, when he finally got to describing his visit and its poor ending, Hermione was quiet and pensive. She looked down at her hands in her lap. Draco sat awkwardly waiting for her to say something.

"Poor Ginny," Hermione whispered. She spoke her words very slowly. "It's very hard for her, you know? After she lost Fred and Harry...and now her father, too. She's lost a lot for the cause. More than most of us." Draco clenched his jaw and held his tongue. He didn't want to get into any arguments, nor did he want to bring up the subject of his own losses. "My parents are safe in Australia." Hermione looked up at Draco with misty eyes. "Is it true about your parents? Neville said—"

"Yes," Draco said, looking her back firmly in the eyes. "I was under the Imperius Curse. My parents insisted. They knew it was the only way I could live and also be in the Dark Lord's graces." He stated the situation as tersely as possible. But somehow he knew she was going to keep on pressing. It was just in her character. It always had been.

"But, the Imperius Curse...it wasn't your fault, then," she said with a bright tone as if no one had ever thought at it from that angle. Her naivete just made him more upset.

"Come on, Hermione. You're a smart witch. You know that you can fight it. But I didn't. I'm sure a part of me just wanted to live, no matter the cost." His jaw tightened further. He refused to cry in front of her. It would be too degrading.

"But, if they wanted you to—! And if you hadn't, we wouldn't be able to do what we're doing now!"

"STOP TRYING TO JUSTIFY IT!" Draco erupted. "I used the Killing Curse on both of them! I looked right into my mother's eyes while she was crying and telling me she loved me, and I killed her!" He laughed, coldly. Hermione sat in an open-mouthed stupor. She looked quite close to tears, but he didn't care. He didn't deserve her pity and he wanted to ensure he didn't get it. "Do you know what the last words my father said were? Do you? He said, 'I'm proud of you, Draco.' He was proud of me. What kind of sick and deranged thinking went into that one? Sure, now all of this comes in handy, but when it happened, all I knew was that it was either me, or them."

"Malfoy, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to," Hermione cut herself off with a collective sigh, "to assume anything. I shouldn't have asked," she said, returning to her professional demeanor as quickly as possible. She pressed on, but was notably shaken. "Now, we need to get Ginny through this process as quickly as possible. If you have any strings to pull, I'm going to need you to pull them. Once she's out, we, of course, have our current plan of getting her a job in Security at the Ministry under your recommendation." Draco nodded. "But, I was thinking of an alternative."

"Go on," Draco said. He was trying to calm his tone so that he sounded less vicious.

"Well, we know that getting her up the professional ladder may take awhile. Perhaps longer than we have." She bit her lower lip in thought. "Although it's more dangerous, I was thinking of a more direct route." Hermione's hand stretched across the table to brush Draco's left forearm. An involuntary and infuriating blush crossed Draco's cheeks. He hoped that in the dim light, Hermione hadn't seen it. He looked down at her hand on his arm and realized what she was saying.

"Ginny should become a Death Eater?" asked Draco, surprised by the suggestion.

"Your notes on Nagini's keep say that it's is guarded by Death Eaters. I know that with a lot of work, we can get you and Ginny in there, but if Ginny was also a Death Eater, you could take on the mission much faster and with less chance of mishap. She'll still get a job with the Ministry, of course. That way we'll have better access to the sword."

"This seems out of character for you," Draco mused. "From what I recall, you were always quite the rule follower. Never stepped out of line. Always a careful thinker. What has made you wander off the straight and narrow? Aren't you worried for Ginny?"

"Yes, of course!" Hermione answered, suddenly very sheepish. "I have thought this through many, many times. I know the dangers and I want you to make sure Ginny knows them as well before she agrees to it. Normally, I would want to take the safer choice, but, the Muggle world," she seemed to struggle for her words, "it can't really protect itself, and there's a lot at risk. It just seems like once it's started, we won't be able to stop it. And so many people—"

"People like your family?" Draco asked. He sounded a bit more accusatory than he intended to. She nodded.

"But, we can't tell anyone else," Hermione said. "I just want you to give Ginny the option and if she agrees, then we will have to keep it secret—especially from Ron."

Draco was surprised to hear her say that. However, he was not against the plan. It would be very difficult to achieve, but Hermione was right, it would take less time. Looking at her from across the glass table he realized that this was the longest conversation her had ever held with Hermione—not to mention the only time they had been alone. It was very odd for him to see her as a cohort. It was even stranger to take into consideration her motives, thoughts, and feelings. She was looking at him intently, awaiting his reply; her face, framed by a tousle of brown curls. Her eyes held a tender air of concern.

"I'll talk to Ginny, and if she agrees, then I'll keep it between the three of us," he told her.

"Thank you, Draco." Hermione said, ignoring Draco's request regarding his name. He didn't correct her. She gave him a relieved smile. He found himself smiling back, slightly, which he quickly smothered with an expressionless face. At this moment, Hermione became aware that her hand was still resting on Draco's arm and she quickly pulled away and put it back in her lap. "That's all we really need to go over this week. Keep watch over your D.A. coin, and I'll update it with next week's meeting information."