"Potter."

Harry knew that voice. That infamous voice of the Slytherin who kidnapped Hermione Granger. He spun around to see the arrogant blonde walking to him. Harry pulled back to give the boy a well deserved punch. He smiled when he made a connection, but he soon realized it was just a palm.

Draco knew it was coming. Potter would try and kill him. Maybe not so far as to kill, as he couldn't risk being locked up in Azkaban while the Dark Lord was roaming around, but definitely injure him. Thank Merlin for Quidditch, he held Potter's fist in his, and smirked.

Harry's eyes spat venom at Draco Malfoy. If looks could kill, Aveda Kedavra would have seemed a useless spell in comparison. "Where is she, Malfoy?

"Potter, I need to speak with you."

Not long after the words left his lips, he saw a flash of red with what could only be described as an asinine battle cry. Malfoy simply held out his other hand, grabbing the kicking foot of Ron. It would have been humorous, watching Weasley flail his arms helplessly as his foot was being held up before falling, had not the issue been so pressing. Furthermore, the tension that was being sent back and forth between the emerald green eyes of the boy-who-lived and his own liquid silver eyes was enough to give even Dumbledore a heart attack. The silent communication seemed to work, however.

Harry knew that something was important. There was no other reason as to why Draco Malfoy would track him down. Also, there was something unnerving about the fact that the attack never happened last night. Snape was reliant…right? He dropped his gaze. "Malfoy, spit it out."

"We'll need privacy, Potter. Snape's office. Weasley, follow if you want."

"Misses, Thwack made warm tub water with bubbles for Miss!"

Hermione couldn't help but smile, despite circumstances. The adorable looking elf was positively endearing. Who would have ever thought Draco Malfoy would have a soft spot for these elves? "Thank you, Thwack."

If elves could blush, that was exactly what Thwack did. "Misses is Master Draco's lover, Thwack will do anything to help Miss!"

"It's fine, Thwack. However, I'd like to see if I could find any clothes to wear? My school robes have been destroyed, and I don't really… want to be wearing Malfoy's clothes."

"Misses, that's not Malfoy's clothes, that's Master Draco's! Master make Thwack buy lots and lots of muggle clothes for Misses. Master tell Thwack that special girl coming will like muggle clothes."

Hermione stared. Malfoy had asked Thwack to get her muggle clothes? "When did he tell you to get the clothes?"

"Last month, Misses! Master is talking fast and he scared, told Thwack he needed to do horrible things. Master is scared Thwack, but then he tells Thwack about girl he needed to save and will need clothes. He prepare closet for Misses! Come!"

Hermione found herself staring at a walk in closet larger than possibly the entire living room of her muggle home. It was scary, really, that it was completely filled with muggle clothing, as though Malfoy expected her to live here when she was not in school. Absurd, does he think of me as… oh Merlin, he wants me to be his personal prostitute. Not whore, but a prostitute. Simply paid. What did I get myself into? Needless to say, she was enraged, and flushed with pink. She knew she did have to bathe and get dressed in one of the many outfits Malfoy had arranged for her as "income", but when Malfoy returned from wherever the hell he was, he was going to pay.

"Draco, here is the pensieve you wrote to me about," Snape drawled as Draco walked in. He was surprised, however, to see Potter and Weasley trailing behind. Potter looked like hell, as though they really had been attacked last night, and Weasley looked a brilliant shade of red that even outdid his ridiculously flamboyant hair.

"Potter, Weasley, I have to show you something."

"And if you were to attack us when we exited the pensieve?"

"Take my wand with you. Don't say anything until all three memories are shown. Deal?"

"No deal! Malfoy, what are you up to? TELL US WHERE THE BLOODY HELL HERMIONE IS THIS INSTANT!" Ron finally exploded. Trust the ignorant boy to be unable to contain his anger if his life depended on it.

"Hermione Granger is fine. You will submit to this, and that is all I have to say about the matter. Either you do this, or you will never know."

"Malfoy, spare the dramatics. Just show us your first memory," Harry said. He was surprisingly calm, but his eyes said the complete opposite. Draco decided that there was probably a lot more to Harry Potter than surviving Voldemort's clutches. He probably never gave him enough credit for being able to hold himself together.

"Very well, Potter. It would do you well to imitate your friend, Weasley." With that, Draco extracted the first bit of memory from his mind and spilled the wispy substance into the pensieve. "This is from the summer," he explained. He had no doubt that if he handed his wand to Weasley, his wand would be snapped within moments, so he handed it to Harry.

Harry exchanged a look with Ron. Malfoy definitely seemed strange today, almost civil. Not completely civil, but that was to be expected, as they had been the first to (attempt, at the very least) attack him.

"Go on, my memories are not deadly," Malfoy said, tapping his foot impatiently. Of course, there would be distrust. He hadn't been so naïve to think otherwise. However, this was getting ridiculous. His wand was not even on his person, and they were entering a pensieve! Even if they didn't trust him, Snape was in the room, grading papers a mere few feet away. Finally, the two entered.

Through a keyhole, Harry and Ron saw exactly what Malfoy had seen. It was apparent that he was not a part of this meeting, but was curious, nonetheless. They flinched at seeing Voldemort. He was intimidating, no doubt, but what really got them was the sheer ugliness of him. Harry prided himself in not being too shallow of a person, but a face so distorted can only be tolerated for so long without the adrenaline rush of battle. He was definitely an example of someone who was ugly from the inside out. Ron, on the other hand was quite the shallow boy and whispered to Harry that the evil sod needed a really, really strong glamour charm.

"Loyal followersssss, assss you know, there'sssssss to be an attack on Hogwartssssss in November. You are to create havoc, and no matter what, you will capture the Mudblood."

"And Harry Potter, my Lord?"

"We will be sssssssstronger without the pessssssssssssky Mudblood at hisssssss sssside. Bring her to me, dead or alive.

Harry squeezed Ron's arm. There was no way that Malfoy had… had he? He was a git, but Hermione always said he wasn't as evil as they thought. Working with him this entire year should have made Hermione know him better than either of them, right?

Ron, however, was thinking on a completely different tangent, which was obvious when the two had returned to Snape's office. "MALFOY! HOW COULD YOU? You might as well have fed her to the bloody git's precious Nagini!"

"The deal was three memories. Potter, my wand for the next?"

Harry held his breath, and handed Malfoy the wand. He needed to know what happened, and this seemed like the only way. He couldn't lose his cool now, not like Ron. Again, he took the wand after Malfoy had placed the second memory into the pensieve. He looked at Ron. He seemed ready to cry, or lash out, if not both. "Ron, we have to do this. For 'Mione. We have to be strong." With a deep breath, the two entered again.

The ceremony.

Harry's eyes widened at the sight of Hermione's breasts being squeezed by Malfoy. This was complete assault! The jumbled noises of Death Eaters cracking jokes at Hermione had melted together into a conglomerate mess of low life comments, and it seemed apparent that Malfoy was avoiding looking into Hermione's eyes. Ron, on the other hand, seemed to have forgotten he was in a memory, and kept trying to punch everyone and yelled at Malfoy for touching his girl.

Both boys screamed as they saw the blade in Lucius' hands as he headed towards a nude Hermione. They feared the worst, and inwardly cringed when they head their Hermione throw a crude remark at Malfoy. Of all times to not use her intelligent mind, it had to be then. It was like watching a horror movie, not being able to tell the main character that the monster was right behind her. Ron actually burrowed his face into Harry's shoulder, not willing himself to watch his girlfriend be slaughtered.

The blade cut into Hermione. Harry winced, and from the way he tensed, Ron must have thought something horrid had happened, as he let out a girlish scream. When the blade seemed to also cut Malfoy, however, Harry relaxed. He nudged for Ron to look, and that it was okay, though his girlfriend had been assaulted and slightly wounded. The strange incantation was bothersome, however, seeing as they knew nothing of its purpose.

Within moments, the mood changed, and Ron's eyes darkened as he watched Malfoy take Hermione. For some reason, the memory showed only the table, and the screams of Hermione seemed muted, but it was obvious what was happening. Hermione was being raped. Harry looked away, gripping Malfoy's wand tightly. He wanted to snap it, and turn him in for being a Death Eater. They had the proof now, Lucius had announced him an initiate. But he knew he couldn't. Not yet. A deal was a deal, even if Malfoy was toying with them with these memories.

Upon returning to the room, Harry shakily handed Malfoy the wand. He spoke, "Don't be messing with us, Malfoy. These memories better have a point in them, other than to make us want to rip you from limb to limb."

"Background information, Potter. This is what I really need to show you two," Draco entered the morning's conversation into the pensieve.

"Good morning, Lady Malfoy," Hermione did not like the woman very much, simply because she'd never really met her. Malfoy seemed fond of her, but after knowing what he was trying to do to her, she didn't really trust his judgment.

"Call me Narcissa…"

"Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"Ah, the smart muggleborn Draco always talked about. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"He always spoke of me?" Hermione wasn't sure whether or not to be flattered. The woman standing before her seemed the pristine image of elegance and grace, with silky blonde hair that almost matched with Malfoy's. She might dislike Draco Malfoy to bits and pieces, and he was a bloody git which made him seem a lot less attractive, but if she hexed him silent, he was gorgeous. She'd have to question her own sexuality if he didn't think so. She'd never admit it to anyone, of course, but still. She felt extremely ugly all of a sudden, wearing casual jeans and a muggle shirt.

"Won't you sit, Hermione, and have some breakfast?" Narcissa motioned for the younger girl to sit across from her, where a plate and a set of utensils appeared. "He always spoke of you, every year. At first, it was simply jealousy, and as much as I hate it, his father's words."

"So he called me Mudblood?"

"Hermione! That's a vile word!"

"It is what I am, isn't it, Narcissa?" Hermione didn't feel so hungry anymore. Why am I so disappointed? Maybe it was the fact that she had thought maybe Draco Malfoy was really different, and didn't care about blood. However, Narcissa just proved that he did. She didn't seem to care, but her son definitely did.

"Your blood is red when spilt, just the same as mine, my son's, and my husband's. My husband is a fool for not realizing, and my son was just as foolish for thinking his father's words were truth. Thank goodness for the Black blood in him, he's come to his senses."

Hope soared. Though, Hermione reasoned with herself, it was only because that meant there was one less person after her kind to kill.

"Any how, I don't know how that sister of mine came out the way she did… it's tragic, really." Narcissa looked down, seemingly ashamed of her sister.

For the first time, Hermione realized how sad and pathetic Naricssa Malfoy's life must be. No offense intended, of course. She had been forced to marry a man whose ideals almost corrupted her seemingly beloved son, and she'd lost her sister to the same fool her husband's intentions were guided from. Her cousin was banished for being eccentric (Tonks), and Sirius… it was all too sad. "Narcissa, people choose their own routes, regardless of their blood. You're a good person, and you've raised Draco well, too."

"After all you've been through, you still think I've raised Draco well?"

Hermione had been cautious, calling Malfoy by his first name. It only seemed suitable, as she was speaking with his mother about him. Calling him by his surname in his household would only be beyond confusing. She hadn't prepared herself to actually mean it, however. Draco deserved to be called by his name. After all he'd done for her. He was still an arrogant git, thinking she'd be his prostitute, but still, he'd saved her life. "I'll be honest, Narcissa. Your son's a git, but you must have done a lot of right to make him come to his senses about pureblood supremacy."

The older woman smiled, "He's only a git because he adores you."

Hermione blushed, sputtering, "That's rubbish! There's no way he could ever like me."

"He talks about how you are smart and is top of class all the time, you know," the woman looked at the girl fondly, "Of course, there is still some jealousy that he can't be as smart as you, but nowadays, there's admiration in there, too."

"Perhaps it's just education he values, not me," Hermione had an idea how red her face was. She knew she shouldn't be reacting so much, but it was probably because they had just… well, he had just had sex with her.

"He wouldn't have done what he did last night if he didn't care."

Hermione was stunned into silence. This was utterly embarrassing. His mother knew that he had raped her the night before in good intentions? It sounded ironic in her head how she was raped to be saved, but it was the strange truth, wasn't it?

"He risked his life, you know?"

"You let him?" What kind of loving mother is this? Had my mother known I was risking my life for someone, even if I loved him, they would stop me at all costs!

"He talks to me a lot. Draco's a lonely boy, really. His father told him who his friends were, and to be honest, most of them aren't too bright. He's learned to trust me and tell me everything. He's a stubborn boy. I couldn't have stopped him if I wanted to, and I didn't. I know that if he didn't, he would blame himself for the rest of his life."

Hermione suppressed a giggle, thinking about Crabbe and Goyle. They definitely were not the brightest gem in the pile, and Pansy could not get a clue about an annoyed boy if they threw her off the bed and charmed the bed to never allow her on. "He should know that I'm Harry Potter's friend. I live in danger, I live for danger."

"You don't think you will live past the war?"

"There's always the chance that I don't."

"I hope you do, Draco would die without you." The woman suddenly seemed to have aged years in moments, Hermione noted. She must really love her son, knowing his fatal flaws and forever calculating how many years he had to live. She could only guess how dangerous life was as a Death Eater. Especially one that didn't believe in Voldemort's ideals. She'd seen how it'd hardened Snape. Not the process, exactly, but from what Draco had told her earlier, he seemed quite the romantic. Maybe even soft.

The memory was hard to watch, and hard to follow. Harry and Ron's heart reached out to Hermione, her frustrations and curiosity. Knowing that feeling she felt after being thoroughly violated. Imagine the shock when they saw him simply hand her a calming draught afterwards to ease her soreness! The conversation was interesting, to say the least. Draco Malfoy was a virgin? They both struggled, trying to find another plausible explanation for the lack of an attack, not wanting to believe that Draco Malfoy had saved Hermione Granger. In a crude way, but saved her nonetheless. It was disturbing.

Then came the topic of Snape. Harry's eyes were teary, and Ron had the inkling that he'd feel like crying at the thought of even being remotely connected to the greasy haired git. A tear slid down Harry's cheek when Malfoy confirmed that he wasn't Snape's, that both his parents had indeed died at the hands of Voldemort. He'd known it, of course. Everyone always told him how alike he looked to James Potter. A boy could hope, couldn't he? He never saw the ending to the memory, his mind filled with personal thoughts, and when they were back in the room, he still seemed in a daze.

Oh, bloody hell! I didn't filter the memory! "Potter, I'd forgotten to…"

"Is it true?"

Malfoy stared solemnly at the other boy. He wanted to lie, tell him it was all a fraud, and maybe he could get out alive. But on the other hand, it didn't seem right to hide it from him. "Every word, Potter."

"How dare you feed us these lies, Malfoy? We all know you're just doing this to save your own arse! Hermione only believed you because she was just raped and needed some kind of consolation!"

"Weasley, calm yourself."

"THE HELL I WILL-" Harry cut him off, silently handing Malfoy his wand. Malfoy and Ron watched as Harry slowly walked over to Snape. Snape looked up, seemingly unconcerned with the boy's facial expression.

"Yes, Potter?"

It was like a dramatic slow motion movie, where Ron and Malfoy stared in stunned silence as Harry went around Snape's desk, enveloping him in a hug. Snape was surprised and uncomfortable to say the least. It was a small murmur at the most, but everyone in the room had heard. "Tell me about her. Tell me about my mum, professor." Harry's voice cracked, it was obvious that he was stating to sob.

Snape relaxed, a faraway look in his eyes as he patted the boy on the shoulder and ruffled his hair. A look towards his godson told the other two boys it was their cue to exit.