I do not own Harry Potter.

"Miss Granger? Mr. Malfoy?" The professor looked slightly surprised to see them, but he merely gazed placidly at the duo over his half-moon glasses before shuffling various papers on his desk and leaning back in his tall purple chair. "Please. Take a seat. And to what do I owe this visit?"

"We need to talk to you." Hermione said briskly.

"Of course," replied the professor.

"It's...important." Malfoy said reluctantly, then sat heavily down in the leftmost chair.

"I expected so, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor Dumbledore, and he folded his hands and leaned forward expectantly.

Hermione sat lightly down on the other chair, crossing her legs anxiously and waiting for Malfoy to speak.

He did.

He recounted the entire story from start to finish, with much more detail than he had given her a few minutes earlier. His voice was blank and emotionless, and though it quavered from time to time as he spoke, he seemed to have replaced his previously flawless mask of emotions. Hermione was intrigued, wondering about the immense discrepancy between his current and previous demeanor.

He finished conveying all the information maybe half an hour after the pair had entered the office. Professor Dumbledore looked troubled.

"I am glad you felt you could come to me with this information, Mr. Malfoy, but I must admit that this worries me. I take it from your confession that you no longer wish to be a member of the Death Eaters?"

Malfoy cleared his throat, "Yes, sir."

Professor Dumbledore's face stayed serious, but Hermione thought she saw a twinkle appear in his eye. "Good! Very good. Now, I have a few...suggestions. First, though, might I inquire as to the reason that you have been accompanied by Miss Granger? Believe me, I am pleased to see that the two of you are overcoming House rivalries, but considering your relative histories, I am a little surprised."

Hermione blushed. She wasn't sure why, but she could still feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She ignored it, of course. "Honestly, Professor, I have to confess that I'm really not sure how I ended up here, with Malfoy."

Malfoy shifted awkwardly in his chair. "Granger came across me in Moaning Myrt-I mean, in a hallway somewhere. I was, ah, upset, and she was...concerned. You know, because she's nice like that. And I just needed someone to talk to, and as soon as she figured out the circumstances of my...situation...with the Dark Lord, she insisted that I come to you for help. I don't want to work for You-Know-Who anymore, and I think you're probably the only one who can help me."

"I believe I can help." Dumbledore looked reassuringly at Malfoy over his glasses. "My question is, would you like Miss Granger to leave while we discuss more private matters?"

Malfoy looked over at Hermione. He ran a nervous hand through his platinum-blonde hair, messing it up unintentionally until it was almost as disheveled as Harry's. Hermione smiled internally. She would love to see Malfoy's horrified expression if he looked in a mirror and saw that his hair looked like a bleached rats nest.

But she focused once more on the important topic at hand, as she snapped her chocolate brown eyes once more in line with the grey orbs of one Draconius Lucius Abraxus de Malfoy von Trapp.

On another related side note, Hermione refused to believe that that was his real name... He must have made it up to make himself sound more important. Where on earth would he have acquired the surname von Trapp? That was just ridiculous...

"Granger? Granger? Oi! Earth to Gryffindor!"

She started out of her trance and looked back at Malfoy. "Oh! Er, what?"

"I want you to stay." Malfoy turned back to Professor Dumbledore, and said, "I don't like Granger, but I do trust her and value her judgement. You can say what you want in front of her."

"Good!" Professor Dumbledore smiled calmly, placing both his hands on his desk, and Hermione found her gaze irresistably drawn to his wrinkled, shriveled black hand. She shuddered, then averted her eyes, staring instead at her scuffed brown school shoes. She really needed new ones, she thought. She shook her head in frustration. Her thoughts kept going every which way - why couldn't she focus?

"-don't think that would be your best option." Dumbledore was saying, and Malfoy was nodding along. "Now, you could just desert outright, but if you did that you'd have to stay either at Hogwarts or a safe house until the war is over. And I understand that you're concerned about the fate of your family if that happens?"

Malfoy nodded. "Father's still in prison, but that's just a formality. Oh! That's another thing. The Dark Lord has plans for a prison break sometime in the upcoming few months. Azkaban isn't really very well guarded to start with, and after the desertion of the dementors...well. You should probably get some people on that. But, yes, I am worried about Mum. She's back home at Malfoy Manor, which isn't currently but will soon become the Death Eater's headquarters. They might kill her. You can't let that happen."

"I assure you, Mr. Malfoy, I will not allow such an event to occur." The headmaster took off his glasses and wiped them on the sleeve of his robe. In the silence that followed, Hermione could hear the rustling of the former headmaster's portraits that were hung on the wall behind his desk.

"I have a suggestion, Mr. Malfoy, and I don't know how you're going to feel about this," Professor Dumbledore said honestly, "And I feel a pang of guilt about even suggesting that an underage student try such a thing. But I truly feel that the benefits of this endeavor could be...invaluable to the mission of the Order of the Phoenix."

"I'm not joining the Order." Malfoy said stubbornly.

"I'm not asking you to," replied the headmaster, "I'm asking you to become a spy."

There was silence. Hermione fidgeted, playing with the hem of her red woolen skirt. Malfoy just sat there, astounded, eyes wide. He leaned forward, placing the weight of his head on his elbows, twining his fingers through his hair. Hermione thought privately that this step sent his hair over the edge from messy to ridiculous. It was a little bit endearing, actually, and really very cute.

She waited for his reply to the headmaster's suggestion. He swallowed, and Hermione could see a muscle smasming in his temple. He sat up again, looked straight at Professor Dumbledore, and nodded. "Yes. I'll do it."

"Thank you." Professor Dumbledore was serious, and he leaned forward. "I will not dishonor you by warning you of the dangers of your choice. I know that you are well aware of the dangers. You're a bright young man, and you've been born and raised with the threat of what will happen if you desert the Death Eaters hanging over your head. I advise you to be careful. But beyond that I have no practical experience with espionage. I can teach you theory, but untested theory. And untested theories could turn...lethal. So I will refer you to Professor Snape."

"Professor Snape's a spy?" Hermione burst out, unable to restrain herself.

"Yes." The headmaster fixed her with an authoritative expression, and continued. "But I must impress upon you that this fact must remain secret. If anyone hears, anyone at all, it could mean torture and death for Professor Snape. Tell nobody, not even Mr. Potter or Mr. Weasley. I do trust them with this information, but they can sometimes be...confrontational. Please, I implore you, be discreet."

"Yes, sir." Hermione replied meekly. "I understand."

"Good." Professor Dumbledore smiled. "And now, I recommend that the pair of you go down to dinner. We've had enough discussion for today. Mr. Malfoy, Professor Snape will be expecting you tomorrow after classes. Miss Granger, might I request that you return to my office tomorrow at that same time? I have some interesting questions I'd like to pose to you. I seem to have underestimated not your intelligence, but your emotional maturity."

Malfoy stood up, nearly leaping to his feet. "Yes. Dinner. Let's go."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione said politely, standing up carefully, if not gracefully. "I'll certainly come back tomorrow. Thank you for all your help."

Professor Dumbledore smiled, and she saw his eyes twinkle again. "Let me say that it honestly was my pleasure to have such a fascinating and gratifying conversation with the two of you. Now go and eat."

Hermione flashed another courteous smile, and then departed, Malfoy trotting along on her heels. Halfway down the flight of stairs, he grabbed the wrinkled sleeve of her oxford school shirt. "Hey, Granger."

Hermione turned and looked at him,. He was ordinarily about six inches taller than her, and since he was still a step higher than she was on the staircase, he towered above her. "Yes, Malfoy?"

"I need your help with one more thing." Malfoy said, and his grey eyes locked with hers. Hermione gulped, her mouth completely dry all of a sudden. "Meet me outside the Great Hall after dinner."

"All right, Malfoy," she acquiesced, "But it better be important."

He smirked. "Oh, it is. And don't worry. It'll help you with your problem du jour as well."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but before shhe could ask the necessary question, he had brushed past her and continued walking smoothly down the rotating spiral staircase.

She wrinkled her nose in annoyance, but followed.

Dinner was an affair full of laughter. "Lav-Lav" and "Won-Won" had already eaten and left, so Hermione sat with Harry, Ginny, and Seamus Finnigan. Seamus spent the entire dinner regaling them with stories from the summer he'd spent in America with his Muggle cousins. Hermione had snorted half her goblet of pumpkin juice out her nose when she heard how Seamus's cousins had chalked up his habits of pointing at various items and asking if they worked on 'elctrisky' to his Britishness. Perhaps the story hadn't been particularly funny, but after the afternoon she had just had, Hermione needed to laugh.

But as she was finishing up her plate of apple pie, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Draco Malfoy waving frantically at her. She swallowed the last bit of apple, took a sip of her milk, and then stood up. "Thanks for the stories, Seamus, but I've got to go. Studying, you know?"

Seamus rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go, stick your nose in a book. Hey, Harry, want to play chess with me?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry agreed, "Ron's busy, and he always beats me anyway."

Seamus grinned. "Hey. You're still going to lose."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that!" Harry said, in mock outrage, and then the two boys began to laugh.

Ginny just sighed. "Boys." she said, by way of explanation, and then gestured to Hermione. "Go read about Potions or something. Shoo!"

Hermione smiled, and then walked away. Malfoy was waiting just outside the entrance hall, tapping his foot impatiently and gesturing at an imaginary watch on his wrist. Hermione stuck her tongue out at him. He ignored her, grabbed her by the elbow, and led her gently but firmly down in the direction of the dungeons.

"What is this?" Hermione whispered, "Is this about...you know, earlier today?"

"It's not about...THAT." Malfoy replied aloud, continuing to walk briskly. Hermione had to take extra long steps to keep up with him. "It's about the problem that led you to the bathroom earlier today."

"What?" Hermione asked, confused. "What could you possibly do to fix that whole situation?"

They had arrived at a stretch of blank wall that Hermione recognized as leading to the Slytherin common room.

"Ron's the jealous type, right?" Malfoy asked, moving closer.

Hermione nodded, confused.

"So's Daphne," he hissed in her ear, then grabbed her by both shoulders and kissed her.

It was the last thing Hermione had been expecting. She stood there for a few seconds, looking and feeling stunned, until Malfoy broke away and looked at her, annoyed. "Come on, Granger! Act!"

:"What the hell, Malfoy!" Hermione hissed loudly. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm kissing you." he said, using that tone of voice one reserves for small children and the particularly dense. "You know, to make Ron and Daphne jealous. But you're not doing a very good job acting."

Hermione just stood there, dumbstruck.

"What, you think this is fun for me?" Malfoy glared cruelly at her. "I'm doing a job. You should be too. Now kiss me, and pretend to like it."

Hermione frowned, and opened her mouth to argue some more, but Malfoy silenced her by covering her mouth with his. She took a step backward in surprise, and felt her back slam against the stone wall of the common room entrance. Malfoy put his arms around her waist, resting his hands just above her hips, and she could feel the heat from his hands through the thin fabric of her shirt.

Hermione sighed to herself, and began to act. She went up on tiptoes, twining her fingers through Malfoy's blonde hair, and was surprised by how silky his hair was. He began unbuttoning her shirt, and she slapped his hands away.

"Hey! No!" she hissed, and she felt him sigh slighlty.

"Damn," he whispered, breaking the kiss again, and then he whispered, "Purity and Justice," before kissing her again. Hermione maintained the act, but she wasn't sure how well this plan was going to work, until the stone wall dissolved, and she went crashing down onto the floor of the Slytherin common room, Malfoy landing on top of her. She felt the air be knocked out of her lungs, and she could only imagine how sketchy the position they were in looked to the general public.

But she kept her hands in Malfoy's hair, and he kept kissing her, as the whispers rose in the Slytherin common room. After about three more seconds, Malfoy looked up.

Hermione saw the blood drain from his face, and he scrambled to his feet. Hermione followed, and she could feel her entire face turning tomato red, from her neck up to her hairline.

"Er-" Malfoy stuttered, "Er-It's not what it looks like-I mean, uh...It's just-"

Hermione smoothed her skirt, and frantically fumbled with the buttons on her shirt. They were all fastened, of course, but nobody else needed to know that. "Sorry to, er, disturb you." she heard her voice say, mortified, "We'll just be going now. Come on, Draco."

She grabbed his hand and walked away from the Slytherin common room, muttering the password, and she heard loud whispers rising behind the two of them Somebody wolf-whistled, and somebody else shouted, "Mudblood!" That call was followed by a shout of "Blood traitor!" and soon the whole room was shouting epithets at the two of them.

Luckily, Hermione and Malfoy were long gone by that point.

"That wasn't bad, Granger," Malfoy admitted grudgingly. "You pick up on things quick. All right. That story should have made it to half the school by breakfast tomorrow, and to the rest of it by lunch. Your boyfriend the Weasel will be furious, and Daphne will be steadfastly trying to pretend that she doesn't care. Mission accomplished."

"Are you sure you want to attract attention to yourself like this, especially since you're also going to...you know...with Voldemort?"

"Au contraire, Granger." Malfoy answered, the smirk once more on his face. "There are several good excuses I can feed my father regarding this occasion, and it will serve to distract their attention from my real disloyalty to my false affection towards you. Shall I escort you back to the Gryffindor common room?"

Hermione wrenched herself free of his grip. "I think I'll manage on my own, thanks," she replied drily, but Malfoy threw his arm around her shoulders.

"Let me rephrase, Granger. I will be escorting you back to your common room. Now put your arm around my waist and comply with my wishes, We have to make an impact."

Hermione shot him a ferocious glare, but for some reason, she wrapped her arm around his waist and began to walk. Malfoy spent the entire trip back to the common room whispering what probably appeared to be sweet nothings into her ear, but was actually a summary of the chapter in potions they would be quizzed on the following day. From time to time, Hermione giggled and whispered corrections into his ear. Both sides of the conversation were littered with brutal, creative, and in the case of Malfoy, vulgar insults. They appeared to be a sickeningly sweet couple, but in reality? They were anything but.

They arrived back at the common room. Hermione pasted a horrifically soppy smile on her face, got up on tiptoes, and whispered in Malfoy's ear, "You know, I keep forgetting that I actually hate you, but don't worry. I still do."

Malfoy shot her a sugared grin in return, then whispered, "Really? I have no issues remembering that I don't like you. Guess you're just falling for me."

Hermione stepped on his toes. He winced, then kissed her again.

She kicked him surreptitously in the shins. He cringed, then broke away. "Hey! Why are you kicking me?"

"Why are you kissing me?" she countered. "There's nobody around!"

He raised a condescending eyebrow. "Actually, that's the Fat Lady right there. She's already left her painting to go tell all her friends - she's a horrific gossip. That's one way to get the information out. And for another thing, well..."

He bent down and pressed his lips gently to hers once more. "I actually kind of like kissing you," he whispered in her ear, wrapped his arms around her in a quick hug, and then left.

Hermione just stood there in the hallway, half horrified, half bemused.

What now?