Disclaimer: If I had the talent of Miss Rowling, I would add onto the Harry Potter books the dimension of Draco Malfoy all DMHG fans love ;) the hot, brooding, snarling, yet full of layers that need Hermione Granger's intelligence and intuition to peel off slowly (:

A/N: Thanks for the reviews again, hope they keep coming in! Let me know what you think of this one. The plot's getting thicker. Enjoy! (:

There were no lessons with the Slytherins on her timetable, and it would be far from wise to go anywhere near the Slytherin common-room, so Hermione had to endure an excruciating wait till after supper for patrol to commence. Praying fervently that Draco Malfoy wouldn't be suddenly overcome with sickness or a bout of rebelliousness that would render his absence from patrol, she had arrived at the corridor early to catch him immediately.

She lounged near the banisters, so that the students would figure out that she was not out to gain extra credits just by coming early for patrol. In her mind, she saw the figure of Draco Malfoy swooping past the Gryffindor stands in the Quidditch match once again, and she bit her lip. Was she doing the right thing by acting on her own accord without telling Harry what had really happened? On one hand, she knew Harry and Ron would turn purple and blow up at her for trying to take risks without letting them know. They were her best friends; how could she keep them in the dark? They were bound to find out sooner or later that Hermione was acting on her own. On the other hand, Hermione could envision Harry getting all worked up if she let out that Malfoy had threatened to kill her, and he would stop her from trying to weasel out more information from him. And if Hermione was not successful, Harry or Ron would probably be even less successful, given the degree of tolerance both boys had.

She sighed in frustration and paced towards her end of the corridor. That was how they patrolled – his end and her end. It was like a Chinese saying that went 'the well water does not offend the river water'; both waterways just wouldn't meet. But Hermione refused to believe what the Daily Prophet had published – that Draco Malfoy was becoming a Death Eater to carry on his father's legacy. Yes, Malfoy had been Harry's nemesis from day one, but as she had said, she somehow didn't believe he was inherently evil.

Not that she really knew why she had that feeling.

She could hear voices at the far end, and she turned around casually.

Draco Malfoy had appeared at the other end of the corridor.

But he was not facing her. Behind him followed Pansy Parkinson, and she was talking about something incessantly. Suddenly, Draco wound around and glared at Pansy, causing the black-haired girl to shrink back, then turn on her heels and walk away briskly. Draco's head turned, and his sharp eyes landed on Hermione, who was trying to look as innocent as possible as she stared at him from the distance.

"Eavesdropping again, are you, Granger?" demanded Draco, angrily, walking briskly towards her so that she could hear him clearly.

"Can't hear a thing if I'm standing here, so you don't have to be so uptight," said Hermione, shrugging her shoulders, though she could barely contain her excitement at having found out something Draco needed to know, and the words were threatening to spill out of her mouth. But she couldn't resist giving him a dig or two before she made her announcement.

Draco gave her a piercing glare, before he swung around to walk towards the end of the corridor which he usually took charge of. Standing at opposite ends of the corridor would be the best way to patrol with Hermione Granger, since he couldn't help feeling incomprehensibly frustrated whenever his eyes set upon her.

"I have something to tell you."

"What does the sneaky little Mudblood have to tell?" shot back Draco, turning around and giving her an icy look. He didn't feel like talking to Hermione at all, especially not after he seemed to behave like a small kid in front of her at the Quidditch stadium.

"I said I would help, alright?" Hermione glared back at him. "I just wanted to tell you I found out who Jeremiah..."

"Silencio!" Draco whipped his wand out faster than Hermione could defend herself, though his wand was still partially shielded by his robes. She found herself opening her mouth with no words coming out. Rage was about to overtake her senses when Draco shoved his wand back into his pocket hurriedly so that no one would notice. His gaze was more penetrating than ever.

"Shut your trap, Granger," he hissed. "Some things are not meant to be said out in the open. Library, after this, far end. Not a word more, you know what I'm capable of."

He said it in such an authoritative and furious manner that Hermione didn't feel like shouting back when he reversed the spell, and she felt her voice coming back. Scowling, she turned her back on him and proceeded to the other end of the corridor.

"Stupid, ungrateful ferret!"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco put his legs on the table as he leant back on the armchair. This corner was almost his royal throne; everybody knew Draco Malfoy liked to sit in this corner, and dared not venture towards those few pieces of furniture. There were only two other people in the library, and they were all clustered near the entrance. Hermione Granger, he knew, sat in the centre of the library, so that she could have easy access to all the resources. But that was because she came to the library to research. He came to the library – for peace.

Every night he had nightmares. His father's desperate pleas, the parchment with the poem chanting aloud in his dream, his mother's incessant weeping, the Dark Lord's deathly voice, Snape's barking, Corrinne Whitemayer pointing the wand at him with her red eyes burning, Astoria Greengrass and her beautiful face contorting into a smirk and saying 'Too bad', even Granger, with the brown curls and soft eyes that lost the look of pity, but took on a rather determined, almost feisty character of its own...

He shook his head. He had a lot to do. Too many, in fact. But he had barely taken the first step.

Pansy had ditched her earlier reticence in dealing with him, and had been at his ear lately going on and on about how he had to lie low and not make himself the spotlight with his bad temper towards everyone. Everytime he stepped into the Slytherin common-room, there would be a hush and only the sixth-years closer to him would venture to speak to him. The way he glared around the room didn't help matters much. Blaise had come back from the Hospital Wing, but was strangely subdued. Crabbe and Goyle were starting to shy away from him as much as possible. Or perhaps, it was the other way round. Pansy had insisted that the more he shied away from everyone and became aloof, the more his Death Eater status would be noticeable and everyone would put their guard up against him.

Draco had retorted that that was probably what he really wanted: to have everyone take notice of him.

Pansy had argued that he was not going to accomplish what the Dark Lord wanted him to do. Even though she was not part of the Death Eaters, she was clearly intrigued by Dark Magic, and occasionally dropped questions to Draco about what it was like being a Death-Eater. She often got no response, to her chagrin.

His fists were clenched. He straightened his back.

His first mission. He had plenty of time to execute it. But what he needed wasn't time; he needed the plan, and the guts to do it. He knew he didn't have the skills for it, so he needed a well thought-out plan that could lead him to accomplish it. He wanted to make it obvious that he had something planned, and then deal a heavier blow through means that nobody could guess. This way, the Dark Lord would trust him. But it was difficult – knowing that accomplishing his first mission and gaining the trust of the Dark Lord would take some time, whereas finding Maldash Wentervale was urgent – if he didn't get to Wentervale first, the Dark Lord would.

Draco cursed softly. This meant that he had to complete his first task earlier than he had predicted. He was past thinking about whether he should do it – he would regret it if he did, but yet he would also regret it if he didn't. All this emotional turmoil was taking a toll on him.

Two, two, and three strides.

"What the hell does this mean?" Draco whispered to no one.

He slumped back into the armchair, feeling himself deflate.

Soft footsteps were approaching.

Draco sat up straight and adopted a lazy-looking stance facing the window as Hermione stepped into his 'territory', looking obviously uneasy.

"You have permission." He shrugged his shoulders, and Hermione glared at him as she sat down in the chair opposite him, and produced a whole lot of books on the table.

"And I was going to say sorry for being late, maybe I should take that back!"

Draco did not move an inch. "Busy snogging Weasley?"

Hermione looked offended. "Very funny. I just thought maybe the books might make our meeting look a bit more academic, rather than anything else."

Draco didn't say anything, although he secretly thought that was a smart move to avoid any possible gossip.

There was an awkward silence.

"So, are you done being a sneak?" he said at last, running his fingers through his styled hair.

"What?" Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"You know, you and I both don't really have a conversation topic that runs along the lines of 'Jeremiah'," said Draco, his eyes still trained on the window. "So maybe you should just pull your nose out of my business and carry on with your goody-two-shoes life." He suddenly turned his fierce gaze onto Hermione, causing her to shrink back a bit. "And I mean it."

Hermione caught her breath and stared at him defiantly. "I know who Jeremiah Greengrass and Lanneria Wentervale are."

Draco instantly froze. How did she know?

Then he relaxed and chuckled. "So who are they?"

"Don't think I'm stupid," snapped Hermione. "I'm not going to let you get away with the answer so easily!" Then she lowered her voice. "You're trying to look for Lanneria Wentervale so that you can find out where her half-brother is. So that you can find out what happened to your father. But I was thinking about it – and you ought to – don't you think Voldemort will find out what you're doing? You could be killed before this happened!"

"That's my business!" hissed Draco, turning rigid again. "And you could be killed before you get to know what happens to me if you meddle anymore. Now just tell me and there's nothing more that I will tell you!"

"Then there's no reason for me telling you," said Hermione, huffily. "Because you're just putting yourself in danger!"

"And since when did you care so bloody much, Mudblood!" The word slipped out of his mouth again, almost smoothly, covered with a thick layer of spite. Hermione flinched, but her defiant expression remained.

"I said I would help."

"I don't need your bloody help," retorted Draco, with a snort. "Who are you, to help a Death Eater? Hermione Granger, you can be so meddlesome and confused to help someone who is a potential murderer. Or perhaps, even already one." He curled his lip, and she flinched again. Somehow he didn't really see a lot of joy in seeing her do that, even though it used to thrill him when others flinched at the sight of him.

There was silence once again.

Suddenly, there was a shuffle, and then the click of heels began to approach them. "Mr Malfoy and Miss Granger, it's past library hours! What could the two of you be possibly doing at this hour..."

"Madam Pince!" whispered Hermione, in horror, almost leaping out of her seat . "I forgot about her, let's go!"

"Stop panicking, Granger," said Draco, lazily, and he took out his wand and waved it, muttering under his breath.

Instantly, he felt as if somebody had cracked a raw egg above his head. The wet and smooth feeling simmered at his head, before running downwards all over his body. In front of him, Hermione's mouth was in a large 'O', as she cringed as an invisible liquid flowed from her head to her body, rendering her the same colour as the shelf of books behind her, complete with the different colours of book covers. Quickly, he took the stack of books Hermione had left on the table and shoved it behind his seat.

Madam Pince came up to the corner and stared. The light in this corner was not as bright as the main reading area, and she pushed up her pince-nez, but it was quite clear that there was not a soul.

"Did they leave? I never noticed!" she exclaimed under her breath. Then with a vehement 'hrrumph!' she turned around and walked off, switching off the lights with her wand as she went. Draco held his breath until from a distance, he heard a 'click!' and he knew the library doors were shut.

He waved his wand about in the darkness, and then suddenly there was a loud squeal, which he hastened to silence. However, he was momentarily blinded by a sudden light shooting out from Hermione's wand to illuminate her face, which was an expression of anger and curiosity all mixed into it.

"You cast a Disillusionment Charm?" Hermione stared at him, incredulously.

Draco shrugged his shoulders.

"But... that's Advanced Charms!" She faltered, looking bewildered. Draco smirked, feeling a little swell of arrogance. His father had taught him many things that students of his age had yet to know.

His father... Draco closed his eyes.

"Wind gone out of your sails, hasn't it, Granger? That somebody knows more than you?" He sneered.

Hermione sank back into her chair, shaking her head in disbelief.

Draco stopped smirking; he cast Lumos with his wand as well and placed it on the table.

"Look, we can make things simple. All you have to do is tell me what you've found out, and then you can go on being Potter's walking encyclopaedia, alive and kicking." He lowered his head. Then when he raised it, his eyes were different – almost, soft. Hermione felt herself drawn into those gray circles. "I told you I won't kill you." Then he chuckled, a little mockingly. "So that I won't become a copy of my father's killer, huh. I just told you I won't kill you as long as you don't stand in my way. Don't think I've softened, Granger."

Hermione fought hard not to keep staring at his eyes. "Fine. I'll just tell you. I said I would help, didn't I?"

Draco leant back again. "I'm all ears, Miss Benevolent."

Hermione scowled. "They're the Greengrass girls' grandparents."

"Grandparents?" Draco hadn't really been expecting that. "Where'd you hear that from?"

"Daphne Greengrass."

Draco let out a low whistle. He should have just waited for the hare-brained older sister to appear, instead of having to deal with the sharp Astoria.

"She let it out indirectly, and I put two and two together. Apparently their grandparents are Jeremiah and Lily Greengrass, and she was going on about how it's an insult how Harry's parents have similar names," Hermione gritted her teeth. "And since Jeremiah Greengrass' wife is Lanneria Wentervale, and it is likely she had to adopt a new identity to escape capture after Maldash ran away, I'm guessing Lily Greengrass is Lanneria Wentervale."

Impressive, thought Draco. His expression remained impassive. "Alright then, that's all for tonight I suppose."

He got ready to stand up, but Hermione remained seated. He stared at her. "Aren't you going back to be your goody-two-shoes? Not afraid Potty and the Weasel will turn Hogwarts upside down looking for you?"

"I told them I had a research project to do in the library," she said, quietly, staring at the table. "With Madam Pince's permission."

"You lied to them?" He looked at her incredulously.

"How're you going to find Jeremiah and Lily Greengrass in the first place?" asked Hermione, ignoring his question and looking back up at him. "I don't think the Greengrasses are that chummy to let you go over to their place or something."

Draco jerked involuntarily. It was really not wise to be taking only one step at a time. He remembered how curt Astoria was towards him as soon as she found out that he knew about her grandmother, and scowled. "So know-it-all Granger has a plan?" he asked, skeptically.

Hermione paused. Then she let out a little smile. "Yeah, I think so."

Draco's scowl vanished. He stared at her, amazed. "What?"

"I said I have a plan." She had a rather wicked look on her face that startled Draco. It was quite un-Hermione to look that way. Glaring at her, he bent over and his gray eyes were just centimetres away from her brown ones. He was about to say something spiteful, but then the words didn't come out. Hermione was so taken aback by his sudden movement that she gaped a little, her breath escaping her lips in a puff.

Draco raised an eyebrow as he stared at her gleaming lips. She's wearing scented lip gloss? The smell of strawberry wafted up his nose and his glare suddenly faltered a little.

Hermione's heart was racing as she stared into his gray eyes. They were no longer stone cold. What started out as a fierce glare was suddenly replaced by a shine, that took her by surprise. He's... looking at me.

She jerked, breaking the trance as he hurriedly withdrew, looking away. She quickly turned her gaze back to the table. When their eyes met again, Hermione saw the harshness come back into Draco's eyes.

"I'm not going to go with some stupid plan of yours," he muttered rudely, and was about to turn away when Hermione leapt up and grabbed his arm.

Draco felt his arm tingle, and he gasped, instinctively shaking her arm off. Hermione was flabbergasted by her boldness, and was inwardly glad for the semi-darkness to hide what must have been a deep flush rising up her neck.

"What the hell are you doing, Granger?" he snapped at her angrily.

"Look, don't act so cool when you don't have much options left," said Hermione, clearly agitated. "And – I don't even know why I want to help you okay, maybe it's just because I don't want to see somebody who's not supposed to be a murderer become one, maybe I'm just scared that if I let you do your own things, you're going to hurt my friends, maybe I'm just selfish okay, I just..." She broke off, heaving. Draco almost thought she was about to cry. "I just don't want you to hurt Harry."

Draco felt heat rise in him. "So this is all about Potter?" he scoffed.

"No, not exactly," mumbled Hermione. "I mean, I'm scared that you being in Hogwarts is going to hurt somebody okay, I'm not going to pretend that you're some pseudo Death Eater, you ARE one." Draco was momentarily surprised by her vehemence and directness. "And the student that Voldemort wants to kill most is Harry, who is protected by Hogwarts' magic, so only someone within these walls can kill him. And that's you. But that's not all."

Draco didn't say anything. He just plastered his usual smirk on his face, which under the pale glow of the moonlight streaming in from the window, looked rather sinister. Hermione swallowed and continued.

"You – you probably don't have much time to think through the missions Voldemort gives you if you're going to pursue the matter of your father's death at the same time. I don't want to see you just killing somebody who doesn't matter to you so that you can go avenge the person who matters to you. It shouldn't be like that."

"You're such a saint, Granger," Draco said with a snort. "'Shouldn't be like that?' You should go tell that to all the murderers in Azkaban who killed for revenge. Let's see if they break down and cry and beg for forgiveness, or they'd just laugh maniacally at you like you're the joke of the season!"

"So you are supposed to kill Harry then?" Hermione's voice was trembling as Draco looked away.

"Well, Potter's not going to live long. Whether I'm to do it, or the Dark Lord wants to perform the deed himself, I wouldn't know."

"Voldemort must have given you a mission at your induction. If it's not killing Harry, what is it?"

"Granger, stop prying!" Draco spun around and grabbed her shoulders, shaking her so hard till her teeth rattled in her head.

"Just answer me, and I'll tell you how the plan goes, alright?" whispered Hermione faintly, becoming limp in his grip.

Draco stared at her pleading eyes in disbelief, then he dropped her instantly, feeling disgusted – he wasn't sure where this emotion had emanated from. Hermione sank to the carpeted floor weakly. She was clearly getting drained, what with arguing with Draco Malfoy, churning up plans in her head, having to deal with his insults, and then the way his eyes – the way they escalated her heartbeat so rapidly...

"I'm to kill Dumbledore."

Those few words were uttered so simply.

Hermione stared at the back of him, stricken.

Draco's fists were trembling.

"You can't," whispered Hermione, aghast.

"I can do anything," shot back Draco, icily, turning around once again to meet the shocked look of Hermione Granger.

"Not without help."

"In killing Dumbledore?" Draco's voice was incredulous.

"NO!" shouted Hermione, angrily, and Draco growled menacingly at her for making such a ruckus. "I meant to find out what happened to your father."

Draco tried to breathe normally. He couldn't risk having Hermione Granger know so much about him. He couldn't risk her helping him; the Dark Lord would find out he was onto something sooner or later, and halt his life before he could even carry out any plans. Hell, the Dark Lord would halt her life as well; why should she even bother doing anything for him? He looked at her with a tinge of suspicion: was she trying to find out something about him? Was she doing this so he would soften and not kill Potter?

Yet, as he stared at her heaving figure, he couldn't help realising it was impossible for him to do anything alone. He couldn't even get information out of a fourth-year, damn it! And Hermione Granger had just caught the information from Daphne Greengrass indirectly. Snape was clearly unwilling to aid him much other than to teach him basic defence skills and to jump to his rescue only when things turned ugly. Hermione Granger was the one with the plans, the plans that he was struggling to churn up because his mind was so bogged down by thoughts. Whether or not this was about Potter was actually not very important to him at the moment; all he wanted to do was to find out the circumstances of his father's death – and...

"What's your plan?" he said, at last, in the most civil voice he could manage.

"You're willing to let me help?"

"Granger, don't push it," snarled Draco. "I'm sick and tired of you pestering me. And I figure you've got the brains to do things, so let's just leave it as that. If you get killed in the midst of this whole thing, don't say I didn't warn you."

His words were brutal, harsh, but Hermione's ears caught the phrase 'you've got the brains' and wondered if that was a genuine compliment.

"The Greengrass sisters have a pendant each, given by Lily Greengrass, which is supposed to be a family heirloom. They've been given permission by Professor Snape to wear it," she said, eyeing him, and he raised his eyebrows at the mention of Snape. "I'm presuming that it's quite important, and might have something to do with the fact that Lily Greengrass is afraid her granddaughters may be targeted in school if her identity is exposed."

"What are you suggesting?" Draco narrowed his eyes at her.

Hermione's heart was beating faster than ever. She didn't know why she was willing to carry out such a bold plan. Neither did she know why she was getting herself into this mess. Sooner or later, she would have to let Harry know what she was on – yes, she would be at such an important point whereby Harry could not refuse to let her carry on if he wanted to know more, but yet – as Draco's gray eyes fixed on her, and she felt herself drawn in again by the shine in his eyes – she would almost be betraying him...

She swallowed hard again, and then closed her eyes.

When she opened them, she saw Draco with his familiar smirk. He had apparently figured it out.

"My, my," he chuckled, his eyes dancing with mirth. "I can't believe prim-and-proper Granger could come up with such a plan."

Hermione blushed, and was once again thankful for the lack of bright lights at where they were. "Now let's get out of here, shall we?"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Astoria rubbed her eyes and stretched, as the girls around her were clambering out of their beds. A glimpse of the dawn light peeked through their curtains as they started to dress for breakfast. With her eyes half-open, she pulled out her robes from the cupboard in a languid manner, and tumbled onto the bed, her hand absent-mindedly patting about the inner lining of the robes.

She shot up straight, eyes wide open, as her fingers moved rapidly in the lining of the robes. Her eyebrows knotting together, she leapt up and started to open her drawers. She bent over and raised her bedcovers, peeked under the bed, dove to the bottom of the cupboard and flung out the bags there. Her hands ran over all the clothes hung above, turned around and banged her pillow.

"What's going on?" demanded Millicent Bulstrode, disgustedly, as Astoria tossed aside the pillow and it narrowly missed her.

Astoria was about to shoot back a cutting word, when Daphne flew over to her bed, her face ashen-coloured.

Both girls stared at each other, a growing look of despair coming over their faces.

"I c-can't..." Daphne stuttered.

"Professor Snape," Astoria whispered. "Now."