Several hours later, Draco began to make his way down to Slughorn's office, gleefully anticipating a scene in which he rescued a certain Gryffindor from boring McLaggen. He hadn't yet reconciled with fact that he was planning to do any rescuing, never mind rescuing a Gryffindor muggleborn. Sadly for Draco and a bored-out –of-her-mind Hermione, he had the misfortune to walk straight into Filch, who dragged him straight to the Slug Club party and straight into trouble. Snape, as bat like and un-Christmassy as ever, strode into a classroom insisting Draco followed and proceeded to give him a lecture. "You cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled-"

Snape was fuming, but Draco was just as enraged. Though he would never admit it, Draco enjoyed talking to Granger- it was a rare thing indeed for him to get the opportunity to speak to an intelligent girl his own age (air headed Pansy could only be tolerated if there was no one else better about). He had been looking forward to making a half-decent conversation with Granger, especially now he knew she had nearly been a Slytherin. Granger seemed to have a lot of interesting secrets and troubles and he needed a confidant, so confessing to each other was, he reasoned, a win-win situation. However, Snape and Filch had both destroyed what was looking to be a fun evening, and Draco was more than a little annoyed.

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?" he exploded. He was tired, he was angry; he wanted the whole bloody thing to be over. He wanted to be safe. He wanted to live a normal teenage life. He didn't want to kill someone. "I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it," his Head of House snarled. Potter, Draco recognised with an internal growl. The conversation went on and on and on, yet all he could think of was that he needed Hermione. He needed a sympathetic, wise face to soothe him, and aid him. He wanted to escape.

After Snape finally gave up, Draco ran- in a dignified Malfoy manner- to the Room of Requirement. He was not surprised to see a familiar bushy head there too. "Granger." he said, in greeting. "Malfoy." He frowned. Her reply was cool, short. She was upset. He sat down beside her and tentatively took one of her hands. "'S up, Granger?" he asked, softly. She glanced at him warily, as though checking whether she could trust him. He smiled encouragingly and she launched into her story. "McLaggen! I thought he was the solution to all my problems! I thought Ron would stop it all and ask me out! I thought, I thought… I don't even know what to think anymore, because getting to know you I can see you've got problems just like me, so I can't hate you! Harry thinks… Harry says you're a Death Eater and I-" she yanked up his sleeve to reveal the horrific tattoo on his forearm, "…I concur."

Draco slumped, absolutely horrified. She knew. Potter suspected. She knew. Hermione Granger knew. And he didn't want her to. He didn't want to see the fear, the shame, and the disgust in her beautiful brown eyes. He wanted respect, love, care. Damn Voldemort for messing that all up.

He jumped at the soft landing of Hermione's hand upon his shoulder. Gently, she pulled him into her embrace, her chin resting lightly on his shoulder. "Draco," she breathed, her warm breath tickling his cheek, "tell me everything."

He did.

Draco told of being tortured, then, worse, having to watch his parents' torture. Of his fear of the Dark Lord. Of the pain he felt both in his heart and body as he completed the Death Eater initiation process and received his Dark Mark. Of being given his task to kill Dumbledore. Of feigning glee and excitement at the thought of it. Of hearing that his godfather, Severus, had made an Unbreakable Vow to protect him. Of cursing Katie Bell when all his other plans failed.

And when he had finished, and cried his last tear, Hermione whispered the words he would never ever forget: "Draco, I forgive you."

HGDMHGDMHGDM

Hermione spent the Christmas Holidays frantically reading. Her parents picked up on it but simply smiled and shrugged it off- Hermione read all the time anyway, it was in her nature. If they had bothered to read the books' titles, perhaps they wouldn't' have been quite so blasé. After all, Dark Arts for Death Eaters and Dark Marks for Dummies aren't exactly the sort of works the average teenage girl on the side of the Order of the Phoenix is usually seen reading, not that her parents knew anything of the war anyway.

Hermione was researching as much as she could into the Death Eaters, especially how to remove Dark Marks and how well Voldemort took people leaving his side. As she had rather glumly expected, and hoped to prove wrong, Dark Marks were permanent and Voldemort took the rather lovely view that leaving his side made you a traitor, and that if he were you, he'd be counting down the seconds of life left. Her research had required reading some fairly gruesome books detailing exactly what a good Death Eater should do if they found a muggleborn alone, and Hermione found herself freaking out about the number of curses Draco could have potentially hit her with all those times in the Room of Requirement if he'd been so inclined.

Whenever these thoughts struck her, Hermione would shake her head and remind herself that she and Draco were friends (sort of) and she wasn't going to get him out of this mess by not trusting him. So, instead, she worried about him being home with the rest of his family. Draco swore his parents weren't as cruel or evil as she thought. She doubted this- after all, what sort of parents allow their son to join the Death Eaters? But Draco was adamant that his parents had made poor choices and were now living with them, never mind the facade they put on in public, and he knew them better, so she reluctantly let the debate drop.

After all, she had been wrong about Draco.

HGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDM

"Horcruxes?" Hermione repeated, frantically flipping through books in the library. "You're sure that's what he said?"
"Positive," Harry replied dully. "He said he wanted to know what Slughorn knew about horcruxes."
"How can it not be in any book?!" Hermione demanded rhetorically, a little disappointed at the library's failure to provide answers. "It must be really bad..."
"Well, yeah," Harry smirked, "this is Voldemort we're talking about."
"Quit the sass, Harry," Hermione said, restraining a laugh. "Hang on, I'll just try... accio horcrux books!"
A few books wiggled faintly on their shelves. Well, it was worth a look.

Hermione pulled down a copy of Magick Moste Evile, pulling a face.
"'Of the horcrux, wickedest of magical intentions, we shall not speak nor give direction...' why bother mentioning it then?"
She glared at the tired, yellowing pages.
"I dunno," Harry sighed, bored. "Listen Hermione, I have a, erm... homework assignment, yeah... um, due. I'll just be... off..."
"What? Yeah, yeah," Hermione waved him on distractedly. "Whatever."

She turned almost instantaneously back to her reading, oblivious to any signs of life around her until... thud, thud. Hermione glanced up, startled, at the muffled sound. No one else seemed to have noticed, not even Madam Pince. Everyone was too busy chatting to even see the... books? thudding lightly against the window glass. What on earth? Hermione cast a furtive look around her, and slipped over to the window. Quietly, she retrived the books and glanced over the covers. 'Immortality and I', 'Life without Death', and yes! 'Horcruxes: A necessary evil?'

Hermione grimaced but slipped the books into her bag. Time to find Harry.

HGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDMHGDM

She found him in a corner of the common room, surrounded by sweet wrappers and in the middle of a game of wizard's chess.
"You can quit that," she said tartly, dropping the books onto the table with a soft thud. "While you've been playing, I've actually found something out."
Both boys turned to her reluctantly, Ron keenly avoiding her eye.
"Well, go on then," Harry pressed. "Spill."
Hermione shot him a frosty glare.
"You can quit talking to me like that as well," she snapped, before her eyes softened and she said, "It's not good, I'm afraid. Voldemort's made himself nigh on impossible to kill."

Harry smacked his head on the table. "Ugh. Go on then, why?"
"Horcruxes," Hermione replied simply. "He's made horcruxes. I'm not entirely sure how, just that you have to- to kill someone to do so. You have to get rid of all his horcruxes before you can kill him."
"And how many are there?" Ron asked with a groan.
"I don't know." Hermione shrugged. "I would guess at seven, 'cause its the most magical number going. Voldemort wouldn't miss the symbolism."
"SEVEN!" Harry yelped. "Ugh, we're doomed."
"No, we're not." Hermione said awkwardly. "'Cause you've already got rid of one, I think."
"Wha- the diary?" Harry's eyes lit up. "Then... Dumbledore's ring?"
Hermione shrugged. "I expect."
"That's what we have to do, then." Harry said, nodding. "Kill the horcruxes, then kill him."
Ron looked from Hermione to Harry. "Two down, five to go."

In canon, Hermione accioed the books on horcruxes after Dumbledore's death. The same thing's happened here, just earlier than it does in the books :)

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