A/N: Sorry for the long wait, I'm a busy person. Okay, there is a little bit of Hermione/Ron in this chapter (only a little). By the end of HBP, it's pretty obvious that they have a thing for each other, and I'm trying to make this story as realistic as possible. HOWEVER, I'm an avid Hermione/Draco fan, and this story will end up with them together (there's no way I'd write a Hermione/Ron—I'm not saying that they're not done well or anything, just that I personally don't think the two should be together). Hermione just needs some time to get her priorities in order. ;)

Chapter 4: Researching

Hermione frowned in consternation at the tome before her. Flourish and Blotts had turned out to be less helpful than she could have wished, but she wasn't willing to give up hope yet. More disappointing than that was the lack of lucidity in Harry's memory. When asking him for the names of the orphan children that Riddle had taken to the cave, Harry had thought about it for a while, then answered, "I don't remember. I do remember that their last names both started with B, and the boy's name was Derrick or Desmond or something like that, and the girl's name was Emily or Amelia."

Needless to say, using unclear and unreliable information was making Hermione's task take far longer than it should have. It had taken her the better part of two days to find out the children's real names: Dennis Bishop and Amy Benson. And for that she'd had to go to a muggle internet café and search for the orphanage, which was hard to find because Harry didn't know the name of that either…

To put it kindly, Hermione was beginning to get frustrated. That didn't, however, stop her from trying.

With a sigh, she closed the large book in front of her and pulled out the list they had made.

While she perused it a yawn forced tears into her eyes. Putting the paper down, she wiped them away and then looked out the window of Flourish and Blotts to see that it was well past dark. Hermione jumped up and packed away her stuff before gathering the books off the floor and putting them away. An employee came over and told her, with a great deal of annoyance, "The shop is closing. Didn't you hear us announce it ten minutes ago?"

"No, I'm sorry," Hermione responded. "I'll be gone in just a minute." She slung her bag over her shoulder and staggered off with her arms full of books, replacing them as she went.

Tom the Barman called her over to him when she entered the Leaky Cauldron. "Harry and Ron left a message for you," he said, pulling an envelope from behind the bar.

"Thank you, Tom," Hermione said, giving him a wide smile that was interrupted by a yawn.

He looked at her with amusement and said, "You know, leaving at six every morning and coming back near ten will leave you tired more often than not. Try to get more than five hours of sleep, it'll feel good."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. How did he know she was only getting five hours of sleep?

"Miss Granger," he said, adopting a more formal tone, "your room is directly above my bar. I can hear you moving up there until about midnight, and my other barman says he hears you waking up at five. Taking one morning or night off to get rested will probably do you more good than harm is all I'm saying."

"Thank you for your concern," Hermione said, taking her leave of him. She opened the note while on the stairs and read it while walking.

Hermione,

We looked in at Flourish and Blotts and didn't see you there. We're tired of eating in the Leaky Cauldron every night and went out for some muggle food. See you tonight when we get back. Sorry for not waiting.

Harry and Ron

Hermione sighed. They couldn't have been looking very hard for her. Not that it mattered. It was more likely that they'd tired of her company, considering that the only thing on her mind recently was finding out information about Horcruxes. She went to her room and pulled out her list of notes for the day, as well as the list she'd made with the boys. Both lists were dismally short.

With a sigh, she decided that maybe Tom was right and she needed to get some more sleep. Hermione changed into her pajamas and turned off all the lights but one, settling into bed to read a chapter in her book before going to sleep.

A knock interrupted her reading. Hermione put her book aside walked across the cold floor of the room to open the door. "Yes?" she snapped.

A cloaked and hooded figure took a step into her room, causing Hermione to take a step back and grope behind her for her wand. The person took another step, and shut the door with his (her?) foot. Hermione took another two steps back. "Calm down, Granger, it's only me," a familiar voice said.

Her body relaxed. "And you couldn't've told me that before I almost hexed you into next week?" she said sarcastically. It was hard to keep her hands from shaking with relief.

"Granger, your wand is nowhere near you," Malfoy said, pulling off the cloak.

Hermione scowled, but he was right. Over her shoulder she could see her wand on the bedside table next to her book. He gave her a patronizing smile and moved to sit on the desk. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Sitting." Malfoy examined her closely, making Hermione shiver self-consciously. When he didn't say anything, she nervously sat down on her bed. "What do you want?" she asked him quietly, unnerved.

"Turn off the light," he said.

"What?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"Turn it off," Malfoy said. He wouldn't meet her suspicious stare. What the hell did he want the light off for, anyway? It wouldn't make anything different from what it was when illuminated.

"No," she responded at last.

"Granger," he pleaded.

"Why?" Hermione snapped. Why wouldn't he just let this go? The truth was, without having any idea of his motives, she was scared of what he might do when the light was off.

Malfoy flicked his wand and the light vanished. Hermione lunged across the bed, groping for the lamp, her wand, anything. Her wand she heard clatter to the floor, while the lamp had vanished. "Calm down, Granger, I'm not going to do anything to you. I just wanted to talk."

Hermione pushed herself back against the wall, trying to see something—anything—in the dark room. But there was no light from the window, and all she could see was the faint glow of the doorframe. "I don't believe you."

There was a long pause, and the silence was more deafening than his speech. "I thought you, of all people, would have recognized what darkness means to me."

Her mouth was open to retort something when it audibly snapped shut. She remembered, then, how civil he became when the lights were off. Does he really need to be invisible to reveal sincerity? Hermione wondered. Is he truly that insecure?

"I'm going crazy here, Granger," he said at last. "I have to wear a cloak all the time, I can't go outside to get a decent meal. You three can come and go, but I can only in theory. If the Dark Lord got wind of my whereabouts, I'd be gone before you could say Harry Potter. So I sit in my room with nothing to do, with no company, and wait for you three to dictate my next movements. But I can't wait anymore, Granger, it's driving me mad."

Hermione wasn't sure how to respond. She hadn't even considered that Malfoy would have a hard time here. In fact, she wasn't sure that anyone had visited him in the week and a half since their arrival. "I'll…" she began, but then didn't know what to say. Malfoy shifted on the desk, which made her uncomfortable. It was as if he was waiting for a decision from her.

"I'll see what I can do, Malfoy," Hermione said eventually. He didn't leave, so she sat there uncomfortably for a few minutes. "Well, if that's all…?"

"Actually, it's not. I was wondering if you're planning on going back to Hogwarts this year."

Hermione hesitated. "No, we're not going to attend school."

Malfoy said nothing, but she heard his feet hit the floor and he walked to the door. "I'll replace the lamp," he said before he left.

Lying in bed, Hermione reflected that conversations with Malfoy often left something to be desired. Intent, she supposed, was what they lacked. She could never pinpoint why he acted like he did. It was unnerving, she thought as sleep carried her away, I never know what to expect next.

Everything was black, so pitch black that even the size of the room was indistinguishable. Someone was breathing heavily, every few breaths ending in a sob. "Granger?" Malfoy's voice said.

The sob-breaths stopped for an instant. "You…" Hermione said wonderingly. Then her tone changed. "You bastard. How could you have done this to us?" Her speech trailed off in a sob and chains rattled as she shifted in the dark. She gasped with pain and then the only sound was her labored breathing.

"Granger, are you okay?" Malfoy sounded concerned.

"What do you care?" Hermione growled.

"Where are you hurt?"

"I hate you," she said vehemently.

The dream had been so dark that Ron didn't know where it ended. All he knew was that he found himself in the room he shared with Harry, confused and filled with a fury at something vague. Ron had convinced Harry that they should go out that night so that he wouldn't have to dream true again. It helped, usually, if he went to bed exhausted.

Not this time. When he'd pulled himself into bed well past ten, it was with the expectation that he would get a long night's sleep. But then the dream had come anyway, short and perplexing as it was.

Though the circumstances were unclear, one thing was certain: Malfoy was going to betray them. And Hermione was going to be hurt as a result of that. Ron couldn't let that happen, couldn't let Hermione get hurt because of that murderous Death Eater. He was tempted to run to her right then and tell her everything he knew but then he thought better of it. It wouldn't help anything, not with Hermione being so trusting in Malfoy.

Ron would need to prove Malfoy's untrustworthy nature to her somehow, sometime before the dream came true. He wished desperately that he knew how long he had.

Hermione woke up at seven. She stretched, but didn't feel incredibly well-rested. One look at the desk, with the unhelpful scraps of parchment on it made her resent ever waking. A warm shower made her feel better and also helped Hermione to come to a conclusion over what to do with Malfoy.

She got out of the shower, dressed, and then went downstairs to get a breakfast tray. Before she went to Flourish and Blotts this morning she was going to sit down and have a nice breakfast—with Malfoy. Hermione had to knock several times on his door before his voice called out, "Who's there?"

"It's Hermione," she said.

The door swung open and she stepped in hesitantly. A disgruntled Malfoy shut it behind her. "What do you want?" he asked, blinking at her somewhat owlishly.

"Actually, I wanted to have breakfast with you," Hermione said.

Malfoy gave her a speculative look, then shrugged. "Whatever. I'm going to shower first, though."

Hermione stared at him (but tried to avoid looking at his Dark Mark) as he pulled clothing out of his trunk and then went into the bathroom. Times like this made her wonder if he was being rude on purpose. It would've been so simple for him to just sit down with her while the breakfast was hot, but instead he had to make her wait on him. She put the tray on his desk and sat down in the chair to wait.

Almost fifteen minutes later Malfoy came back, fully clothed and hastily primped. "Aren't you usually gone by now?" he asked, sitting down on the desk beside the food.

She looked at him suspiciously as he helped himself to a pancake. "Yes. How did you know that?"

Malfoy shrugged. "The barmen were talking about you. Up at five, asleep at midnight. You look it, too," he said. His mouth was open to say more, but then he took a drink of orange juice instead.

Unsure of how to respond to that, Hermione helped herself to some food as well. "I'm going to try to get us out of Diagon Alley by tomorrow night," Hermione said.

There was a tense silence. "So what exactly made you take the time out of your busy schedule to come visit me today? Surely you didn't feel bad that I'm practically locked up in this room all day with no company," he said.

"There's no need to be bitter," Hermione snapped. "We needed to be here for a while, and leaving by tomorrow night is not giving me enough time to do what needs to be done, but I am trying to be considerate here and think about how this is affecting you."

"Of course you are, now that I've bothered you about it in the first place."

Hermione seethed, and struggled to get her emotions under control before she responded. "I don't have to make us leave early, Malfoy," she warned.

"Oh, please," he said, feigning concern, "Don't change your plans on account of me."

"Maybe I won't!" she snarled, standing.

For a fleeting instant, Malfoy's mask of indifference slipped. His distress showed through and it almost made Hermione pause—almost. Instead she glared at him furiously and stormed out of the room.

Ron caught her outside the door to her room. "Hermione, are you okay?" he asked immediately. "He didn't—"

She ground her teeth together, but shook her head. "No, he didn't do anything but be himself. Merlin, he's so infuriating!"

"Yes, yes he is," Ron agreed, giving Malfoy's door an indecipherable look. Then he turned back to Hermione. "Are you all right? I feel like I haven't seen you in days."

Hermione gave him a weak smile. "I don't think you have," she said.

"You look tired," he told her tenderly. "You should probably go back to bed."

"I'm fine, Ron," she said. "There's so much to do I don't think I can afford to sleep right now."

"Hermione," he said, "The books will be there in another few hours, I promise. And you won't be any good to anyone if you fall asleep in the middle of researching."

She was about to protest again when he reached his arm around her and opened the door to her room. Hermione stood stock-still in his half-embrace, wanting him to hold her, even if just for a minute. Ron hesitantly put his other hand on her shoulder, considering, and then he turned her around and steered her into her room. "You need to sleep," he told her firmly.

Hermione sat down on the bed and took off her shoes while Ron closed the blinds. He then tucked her into bed and sat on the edge for a moment, just looking at her. Ron reached out a hand and shyly rubbed it across her cheek, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Go to sleep, Hermione."

She nodded, already feeling tired, and heard the door click shut behind Ron.

That afternoon, after having visited his brothers, Ron returned to the Leaky Cauldron to find Hermione in his room chatting with Harry. "Ron," she said brightly when he entered. "I was hoping you'd be back soon."

"Here I am," he agreed with her, though somewhat less cheerily. He was still mulling over the dream with Malfoy and it hurt not to be able to tell her about it.

"Sit," she suggested. "I don't think you're going to like what I'm about to propose." Ron's heart beat a little faster at that. Was this going to be what led to Malfoy's betrayal of them? He knew that something was going to take them to that path, unless he stopped it somehow. There simply wasn't enough time to do everything without giving away his secret.

"As you two know, I've been almost living in Flourish and Blotts for the past two weeks." She laughed bitterly. "Leaving my room at six and coming back at ten to go over everything I'd gotten from that day's research. Well, it's not working. I haven't been able to find much. I need a real library, one with archives and the like."

"But the only complete historical archives are in the Ministry," Ron protested, seeing where she was going with this.

"That's not what I was suggesting," Hermione said. "Actually, I was considering another option besides the archives." She hesitated.

Harry looked confused, and Ron felt queasy. The more she spoke, the surer he was that this would be what led up to the true dream. "What did you have in mind?" he managed to say.

Hermione frowned. "Talk to Lucius Malfoy. Wait, before you start protesting, hear me out! He was a trusted Death Eater, and he's been in the ranks for a long time. If anyone knows something about the Horcruxes, it's him."

She looked to them beseechingly, but found no ally. Harry was frowning at her words, a sure sign of his disapproval. When Hermione's eyes found him, Ron couldn't help but look away. This business with Lucius Malfoy wasn't good.

Ron recalled his dream, with Pettigrew and Lucious. What was written in that note, he wondered, that was so important? Orders, most likely. But orders for what? Ron could only think of two orders the Dark Lord would need to give to someone in Azkaban: suicide or escape, either of which meant that Lucius knew too much and Voldemort wanted him out of the Ministry's grasp.

In which case, he would be very useful for them if they could make him talk.

"Come on, Harry, Ron. He's got to know something about the Horcruxes. Riddle's diary was in his possession. While he may not have known exactly what it was, I'm sure that Voldemort's Death Eaters know something. I can try to talk to Malfoy about it, but as a new member, it's unlikely he'll know much. And while we're there having our nice little chat with Lucius, we can try to come up with a way to smuggle him out of there."

The clockwork inside Ron's head was still ticking. The contract that bound Malfoy to them would be invalid if they didn't have his father hidden by the time he was out of Azkaban. If they didn't go to visit and/or get him soon, Voldemort may send the order and there would be no Lucius Malfoy to collect. The longer they waited, the more information Malfoy gathered about him, all of which he would hand over to the Dark Lord without a moment's hesitation.

Everything could fall to pieces if they didn't do this. Though he was violently opposed to Hermione's idea, he had to. There truly wasn't a choice for him.

"I think," Ron said slowly, "that it sounds like a good idea. And we should find a way to get him out of there so that nothing happens to him. Without him, our contract is nothing."

Hermione was beaming at him, and it was worth his guilty conscience.

After that, there wasn't really any way Harry could say no.

Later that evening, Hermione worked up her courage and knocked on Draco Malfoy's door.

"Who's there?" he called.

"Hermione," she called back.

The door opened and she stepped in. "To what do I owe this unpleasant surprise?" Malfoy said as he shut the door behind her.

"We're leaving. Tomorrow night. Have your bags packed."

"Where are we going?" he asked. Hermione looked at him suspiciously, wondering if he was asking out of genuine curiosity or because of a different motive.

She decided he was just curious. "We're going to try to get your father out of Azkaban."

Malfoy's eyes widened; other than that, he showed no sign of surprise. "You're crazy, Granger. No one's escaped from Azkaban without the help of Death Eaters, and somehow I don't think they'll rally to your cause."

"Sirius escaped without their help," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, but no one…" his voice trailed off.

Hermione smirked. "No one knows how he got out? We know. And I'm sure we could get your father out one way or another. Besides, the Dementors don't scare us. Can you produce a patronus?"

Malfoy looked at her thoughtfully. "Your plan is far from foolproof, Granger. Have you ever been to Azkaban, or seen it?"

"No," she said, smiling, "but I have a copy of the blueprints."

"No one could ever say you're not thorough," Malfoy said scathingly.

"Why is that a bad thing?"

"Because one day, Granger, you'll get caught with your nose somewhere it's not supposed to be," he replied. It sounded like a threat.

"You never answered my question," she said with a grin.

"Any question I didn't answer wasn't worthy of my time."

Hermione ignored his comment. "Can you produce a patronus?"

"Of course I can. Anyone who can't is a bumbling idiot."

"Then we shouldn't have a problem, should we? Try not to talk to your father, though, as that would be in violation of our contract." Hermione turned to go, glad that she had been in control (mostly) of this meeting and that she'd managed to get to the point unlike earlier that morning.

"Speaking of the contract, I have a question for you."

"Yes?" She didn't turn around, didn't want to be drawn into an argument.

"Part of the contract was that I wasn't to say what Potter, Weasley and you are doing. What are you doing?"

As she left, Hermione said, "Now whose nose is somewhere it's not supposed to be?"

I know I can be hard to handle
I can be a pain in the ass
So many mood swings, constant changes
But you took it well

--You're Pretty, "Pretending"