Stealing out of the Dark Lord's headquarters in the middle of the night really wasn't that much of a smart idea, Draco thought to himself as he held Hermione with one arm and his wand with the other. It was true that many Death Eaters went in and out on missions every day; but they were always assigned and carefully designated. To blatantly disobey every order that had ever been given to them – stay here unless told otherwise, don't leave, don't make a commotion, don't bother the Dark Lord – this pretty much broke every single rule that had ever been made.

Draco didn't really care- he wanted to be out of the hell that was headquarters, and most of all out of the torture that was called life as a Death Eater. He wanted- needed- Hermione to see the sun again- they were always sent out in the nighttime. He needed her to feel the rain on her face without being afraid of being attacked in the darkness. He needed them to have normal lives again.

He wasn't exactly sure that their lives when they returned would be normal, but it was as close as they could get. He knew that. Hermione knew that.

They had both been on reprieve from missions for a good while now, and the chances of them being called for another that night was extremely low. They both had learned the system well enough to watch for signs that would betray upcoming events; and to the best of their ability, there had been none.

Draco knew Hermione was afraid. He was too, only he didn't admit it to himself like she did; he had long ago learned to hide the fear that constantly liked to spring up inside of him. Regardless, their reasons for fearing were logical and real- everyone on the Light side thought they had betrayed them, and in all essence it was true. The only difference was what they had done with that betrayal.

Throughout the three years Draco and Hermione had been Death Eaters, they had constantly been on the watch for any way they could ease the suffering of those around them. Hermione was, of course, brilliant at Potions and Draco wasn't that bad at them either; the secret potions they made at night were often given to prisoners to ease a bit of their pain. They both killed quickly and easily when necessary, and didn't enjoy bloodshed like the others did.

The main thing Hermione and Draco were both worried about was being killed on the spot by the first person they saw who recognized them. Throughout the three years they had sporadically glimpsed Harry, Ron, or some of the other Weasleys in the battle; Hermione had carefully avoided them, and at Hermione's request Draco had also.

Hermione's brain already contained massive amounts of information about heavy shields and spells; as soon as she had proved herself worthy of the Death Eater ranks she had been assigned a job almost like a researcher. She had reported her findings directly to Voldemort, and Draco had always been pleasantly surprised when she almost always came back unscathed; her research was nearly always pleasing to Voldemort. She had always carefully held back things that would truly be destructive to the Light side, and only shared them with Draco; but anyway, she was extremely smart in the ways of magic, even more so than when they had left Hogwarts. With her, Draco normally felt pretty protected.

Their relationship had began as a close friendship, and then fallen into desperate need for affection, attention, and protection. Those simple three wants had cemented their relationship when the other could provide each. Hermione wasn't quite sure she could live without Draco, and Draco felt the same way. They were both legally adults in the Wizarding World now, and for that reason they weren't afraid of being separated by force.

Hermione's whisper broke Draco out of his thoughts. "Let's go, Draco." He nodded quickly, and they were gone.

--

Albus Dumbledore was a strong man, with a brilliant mind and a good heart. He was extremely adept at predicting what would happen, and he prided himself on that fact. However, in a million years he had not expected this.

His office was heavily warded and charmed to only let in those who had innocent intentions and no thoughts of hurting him or any of the people associated with his cause. It was really a brilliant charm, and one that Dumbledore was most proud of for creating. It was never wrong, but for the first time in his life he wondered if it was.

In front of him stood Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, betrayers of the Light.

--

Immediately Dumbledore could feel the strong shield that had been put up around the two, no doubt by Hermione. He tested it gently with his magic before speaking, and found he could not budge it in the least- either they had gotten stronger, or he had gotten weaker. He guessed the first.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," Draco spoke, his voice calm, cool, and collected as usual. "What a pleasure to see you again."

Dumbledore leaned in his high-backed chair and smiled gently. "Well, it certainly is a surprise."

"I suppose we must explain," Hermione interjected. "Please, Professor- let us explain."

Without a word, Dumbledore gestured to the two chairs that were sitting unoccupied in front of his desk. Under the protection of the dark wood, his wand was drawn and his own shield was constructed wordlessly. It wasn't that he didn't trust the two sitting in front of him- well, actually, he didn't; the main reason was that Dumbledore had no reason to doubt their power, and he didn't particularly want to be on the receiving end of it.

Hermione was speaking, and Dumbledore listened attentively. "We left, three years ago to the day, and joined the Dark side. You know that much." Dumbledore nodded, waiting for the catch.

"However," Draco continued, "it wasn't so we could destroy the Light. We were trying to destroy the Dark from the inside."

"You can check our memories," Hermione said nervously, her anxiety obvious in her voice. "We'll willingly give them to you. But you have to believe that we never wanted to hurt- we have been giving pain potions, and killing quickly rather than slowly, for three years now. We've been trying. Please…"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. He didn't want to believe their story- but he did. It really was a brilliantly brave thing to do, and it was exactly what Severus had been doing for years. Idly, Dumbledore wondered to himself if Severus had been in on the plan too; but at this time it seemed rather insignificant and he didn't bother asking.

He thought up another question in no time, however. "Why couldn't you tell anyone? Why not me- why not Harry, or the Weasleys? It would have made things so much easier. They were heartbroken, Hermione, when you… left."

Tears were slipping down Hermione's face now, and Dumbledore almost felt bad. He watched in interest as Draco slipped his arms around Hermione's shoulder and held her close to him, pulling her sobbing face into his shoulder and rubbing her hair gently. He turned to face Dumbledore, and the old man was almost shocked by the look of warning that was etched on the blonde's face.

"Don't you know what we've been through?" He hissed angrily, taking a deep breath and trying to control his temper. "There's no need for you to ask questions that are deliberately cruel. We had to take the Dark Marks, Professor- we watched people die from suffocating on their own blood. We both have scars that will never, ever heal, and we are both broken in more places than one. You have no idea- and why did we do it? I'll tell you why. We did it to fulfill your whole great wish of the damn Greater Good, and here we are. We tried, and I'll say we really did make a difference. We have information on plans, and future conquests, and how Voldemort works- and I'll say that's pretty important, don't you? I'm sure your precious spy Severus can't possibly get it all. We've been living that, sir, and don't you dare try to downplay it."

After a moment, Dumbledore nodded with difficulty. "I'd like to see some crucial memories, if you please," he said quietly. "And welcome back."

--

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