A/N: I'm sorry this has taken long. I've discovered part of the story on my memory stick, so I'm going to re-piece it from what I've got. I've also got back from a writer's retreat and am all geared up for writing so hopefully I'll have the story finished by Christmas. There are some huge chunks which have already been written, and things are gonna start to happen between Draco and Hermione quite soon. Thanks for your patience, now read, review, and enjoy!

By Any Other Name.

by Flaignhan.

Chapter Nine: A Subdued Party.

Everyone sat there in silence.

Finally, Mr Weasley spoke. "The muggles think it was terrorists. Four thousand people, gone, with the wave of a wand."

Hermione looked over at Harry, whose fists were clenched tightly, making the white scars on the back of his hands (I must not tell lies) stand out against the rest of his hand. She knew how desperate he was to get at Voldemort, but he would have to be patient. Harry was always having to be patient. Always having to wait for something. Hermione wanted to say something to him, but anything that entered her head sounded false and pathetic.

Harry stood up abruptly and stormed out into the garden. Hermione glanced over at Ron, who was pushing his bacon around his plate, clearly having lost his appetite. Hermione pulled her mug of tea towards her, wanting the comfort that came with holding a mug of tea. She didn't want to drink it; her stomach didn't feel up to it.

Four thousand people…that was about four or five times the size of Hogwarts.

She felt pained as she thought of Hogwarts, missing terribly the simplicity of life. Well, she supposed Hogwarts life had never been that simple. There was always imminent death when you were best friends with Harry Potter, but even so, she wished she had a Transfiguration essay to take her mind off of things. She wished she could disappear into the sanctuary of the Hogwarts library, where nothing could hurt her and noise was frowned upon. She even wouldn't say no to a Potions lesson with Professor Slughorn, even if Harry was beating her by using that stupid book of Snape's. It was the first of August, she had only spent half a summer away from the school and she was already missing it desperately.

Ron kicked her under the table and she looked up. He nodded outside, and, getting the message, Hermione got up as he did and followed him out into the garden.

At first, Hermione thought that Harry was spinning around in a circle for no reason whatsoever. He looked like a child who had run out of games to play, but when she saw the gnome fly out of his grip and land fifty feet away, she realised that he was actually de-gnoming the garden. Clearly, like her, Harry wanted to take his mind off of the day's news with hard work. He grabbed another gnome by the ankle who protested loudly, and began to swing in a wide circle once more.

Finally, it seemed Harry had run out of gnomes, and he acknowledged Ron and Hermione's presence for the first time. He collapsed down onto the grass, knees bent with his arms wrapped loosely around them.

"It's not fair," he said at last. It was a childish thing to say, but it summed up how Hermione felt. Harry pulled some grass out of the ground, raised it to shoulder height, then opened his hand and watched it flutter to the ground. He looked up at Hermione, and she could tell by the empty look in his eyes that he needed her to say something, anything. He was desperate for optimism and but she didn't feel that she could really provide anything.

Ron stepped in. "Mum's going to make you a birthday cake."

Both Harry and Hermione turned to look at him. Four thousand people had lost their lives in the last twenty four hours, and Ron was thinking about food. But, Hermione supposed, that was nothing new. Ron was always thinking about his stomach.

"It's shaped like a Quidditch pitch and everything."

Harry broke into a smile and chuckled softly as he let his forehead rest on his knees.

It was a slightly subdued party that sat out in the garden that evening. Mrs Weasley had created an almighty buffet and had invited members of the Order to join them for a small belated celebration for Harry's birthday.

A loud bang interrupted the meal and everybody turned around. There was smoke coming from behind a hill about half a mile away. Mr Weasley stood up.

"That's the Lovegood's…"

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood up, wands grasped firmly in their hands and turned on the spot, disappearing and reappearing in front of a large cylindrical house which had a huge great chunk missing from the side of it.

Hermione looked around and saw several other people apparating around them: Kingsley, Bill, Fred, George, Mr Weasley, Lupin and Tonks.

Kingsley and Tonks were the first to run into the house, and the others followed. While several of them tackled the Death Eaters on the first floor, Hermione could see no sign of Luna, and so dashed up the spiralling staircase, wand at the ready, ducking and diving as curses flew all around her.

She noticed Antonin Dolohov straight away. He was shooting spells at Luna who was struggling to defend herself.

"Stupefy!" Hermione yelled.

Dolohov turned around and blocked the curse with a wave of his wand. He stared at Hermione as a nasty grin formed on his face. "Well well, if it isn't the Mudblood."

"Don't call her that!"

Dolohov turned back to Luna and lazily shot the Cruciatus curse at her.

Luna screamed and Hermione reacted instinctively, throwing hexes and jinxes at Dolohov as fast as she could. He was managing to block most of them but Hermione could see the beads of sweat trickling down his temples and could tell that he was losing stamina quickly.

Several more hexes were exchanged and blocked, and Hermione heard footsteps running up the staircase. Was it Death Eater or Order member? She could feel the ground shaking beneath her feet from the ordeal that was going on below her and made a quick decision.

"Sectumsempra!" she cried.

Dolohov tried to block it but his attempts were futile. A huge slash appeared across his stomach and he dropped to the ground, wand rolling away from him. The colour was draining from his face quickly and Hermione stared wide eyed at him, the fact that she had caused such an injury starting to sink in and horrify her.

"Hermione, look out!" Luna yelled in a broken voice, the Cruciatus leaving her severely weakened.

Hermione spun round just in time to see a jet of coloured light shoot towards her. She shrieked as it hit her and grabbed her sides, falling to her knees and writhing slightly. The tickling jinx was lifted as quickly as it had been cast and Hermione took a few deep breaths, looking up at Malfoy, who was standing by the staircase.

Dolohov's eye twitched slightly. Hermione's stomach plummeted as she realised that he must have worked out that the jinx had been completely harmless.

"What did you do to him?"

"Sectumsempra."

Draco paled, and Hermione knew that he was remembering the time when he had been on the receiving end of that particular curse.

"Hermione -"

"It's OK, Luna," Hermione assured her. She turned back to Malfoy. "Could have warned me."

"Didn't know. Meet me at the edge of the woods at half past twelve, all right?" Hermione nodded.

Draco was looking at Dolohov and Hermione let her gaze wander to him as well. Blood surrounded him. Deep, thick, red blood, filling the cracks in the floorboards, seeping into the tassel on the corner of a rug. Dolohov became quite still.

"Luna, you have to promise me that you won't say anything. Not to Harry, not to Ron, not to anyone. When they ask, say that Malfoy stunned me, OK?"

Luna frowned, as did Malfoy.

"I'm going to stun you?"

"Yes."

"No chance, Granger, you'll fight back and I'll be toast."

"Just do it, will you Malfoy?"

He raised his wand.

"No! Wait! Is everything all right downstairs?"

"Your lot are pummelling them."

Hermione nodded and he raised his wand again. The words seemed distant as he said them and brightly coloured spots burst before Hermione's eyes as she looked directly into the red jet of light which was approaching her.

"I'll kill that little Slytherin b-"

"Ron!"

"What I want to know is who killed Dolohov." A calm, slightly tired voice. A voice that she trusted. "That was dark magic, and if it had been Malfoy surely he'd have -"

"Malfoy's a coward. He wouldn't have cared, just as long as it wasn't him." A twin.

"It was the same curse I used on Malfoy last year. What did Luna say?"

"She said she was out of it, Dolohov used the Cruciatus on her and Hermione started duelling him. She remembered hearing Malfoy's voice, but nothing else."

There was a loud crack which jarred her head. "How was Xeno?"

"Shaken, but fine. No real casualties. We got there just in time he said. He's looking after Luna now." A deep, soothing voice. It made her want to fall back to sleep.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open.

"You all right?" A freckly face was leaning over the back of the sofa on which she was laying, eyes full of concern.

"Out of the way, George," Mrs Weasley bustled over and handed Hermione a cup of potion.

Hermione sat up and drank the potion slowly, looking around at each of the people in the room.

"Hermione," Lupin began in a gentle voice.

"I did it." She answered his unasked question and he nodded, just the once. "I was getting nowhere and he'd already used the Cruciatus on Luna and Malfoy was coming up the stairs. I didn't mean for him to die, I just meant to stop him." she wasn't sure whether she was trying to convince the others or herself. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked behind her to see Harry standing there.

"It's all right," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've just been stupefied," she replied. "Is everyone OK?"

There was a general murmur that she took to mean that there were no serious injuries and felt relieved.

"Would you like some tea, dear?"

"Ooh, yes please."

"I'll have some tea, Mum."

"And me too, Mum."

Mrs Weasley sighed and disappeared into the kitchen, the clattering noise of the kettle being place on the hob audible even over the post-duel chatter that had begun.

Around about quarter past twelve, Hermione was sitting on a log at the end of the garden with a piece of birthday cake and a glass of pumpkin juice, a thick cardigan wrapped around her, tied loosely at the waist.

Harry sat down next to her and she looked over towards him, smiling tiredly.

"You OK?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "I was scared," she said after a moment's hesitation.

"I know."

"I'm going for a walk," she told him, and stood up. "Will you take this back into the kitchen for me?" She handed him the plate which her slice of cake had been on and her empty glass.

"You're going on your own?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine, don't worry."

"I don't think -"

"I just want some fresh air. Go on, go and enjoy the rest of the party."

Harry clearly realised that he was being dismissed and stood up. "If you get into trouble, send up red sparks. And be careful, there might still be Death Eaters around. And -"

"I'll see you later."

Harry nodded and turned back to the house while Hermione climbed over the fence at the end of the garden and headed off to the edge of the woods, to where she would meet Malfoy.

Hermione wrapped her cardigan around herself more tightly, hugging herself slightly for that extra bit of warmth. The cry of a fox made her jump, and she looked around sharply, wanting to make sure that it was just a fox. She noticed a pair of eyes, slightly illuminated by the light of the moon. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and the fox darted away through a hedge.

She pressed on, not liking the idea of being outside alone, this late in the evening. She finally saw Malfoy sitting under one of the trees, back leaning against the trunk, obviously deep in thought. He looked up as he heard her approaching, twigs and leaves crunching under her feet. She didn't know why she'd agreed to this, she was overrun with fatigue. All she wanted to do was go back to the Burrow, wrap herself up in a blanket and fall asleep.

But, for some reason, she'd agreed to meet him.

She sat down cross legged in front of him, their toes roughly half a metre apart. Shivering as a particularly icy breeze blew threw the trees; Hermione pulled her cardigan tighter around herself, wishing he'd told her to meet him somewhere warm.

"What did you want?" Hermione asked finally, after Malfoy had said nothing. He shrugged and fiddled with the grass, not looking at her. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just...oh forget it Granger," he said, standing up. Hermione grabbed his elbow and pulled him back down to the floor. "Go back to your party." Hermione shook her head. It was then that Hermione realised what was wrong, and she didn't know why she hadn't thought of it before. Malfoy was lonely. He had no one to talk to, no friends, no allies, no Slytherins, no teachers. No one. He had Voldemort, he had the other Death Eaters who didn't take him seriously because he was so young, a father who pushed the dark arts on him and pressured him into serving Voldemort, and a mother who he rarely saw. The only time he ever saw Hermione, he had to pretend to be fighting her, and anyone else who he met classed him as an enemy.

Hermione knew first hand what it was like to be lonely, but to be lonely and despised by most of the wizarding population, that was harsh. Yes, she'd received some hate mail after the Rita Skeeter episode in her forth year, but that was nothing when compared to this.

"So, how are you?" Hermione asked, once he had given in to her strong grip on his elbow, and leaned back against the tree once more. Malfoy snorted at the question.

"Spiffing," he replied sarcastically. Hermione counted to five in her head and tried again, allowing him a little more leeway than she would have done normally.

"Have you just been with him since I last saw you, or..."

"It's the only place I'm 'safe'. I'm a wanted wizard," he said all this very bitterly, not looking at her. "I'm a murderer, remember?" Hermione sighed, not knowing what to say. He obviously wanted to talk, but at the same time, he was so horribly reserved by his own nature that getting him to talk was almost as impossible as finding the last Horcrux. "Besides, the Dark Lord has plenty of jobs for me. 'Draco, why don't you go and fetch your father?' 'Draco, why don't you go and try and recruit some of your fellow Slytherins?' 'Draco, why don't you go out killing muggles?' 'Draco, why don't you bend over backwards so I can hex you if you breathe at the wrong moment?'" He sighed and Hermione watched him, a sad frown plaguing her features. "And I suppose etiquette dictates that I ask you how you are and what you've been doing." He allowed himself a small smirk and Hermione saw a flash of his normal self coming back once more. But what was his normal self? Was it the sarcastic, arrogant, bigoted little creep that he'd been throughout Hogwarts? Was it the Death Eater who didn't care about leading convicted murderers into his own school? Or was it the sarcastic, arrogant, but nevertheless slightly amusing ally that she'd come to know and...tolerate?

"Oh you know," Hermione told him airily, "This and that. Destroyed a Horcrux, forgot Harry's birthday, ergo, we got told off by Mrs Weasley..." she shrugged. It all seemed so insignificant. Yes, they'd destroyed the Horcrux, but there was a war going on around them, and all she could say she'd done was miss Harry's birthday. It was important to her and Ron of course, (Harry wasn't too bothered) but in the grand scheme of things, when muggles were still dying mysteriously and buildings were collapsing, it was completely insignificant.

"Did you know anything about Canary Wharf?" Hermione asked quietly, tip toeing round the subject.

"Of course I didn't." Malfoy replied quickly, getting defensive. "He was angry, so he just shot a load of spells off and the thing collapsed. Spur of the moment. It was a matter of seconds. There was nothing anyone could have done. Let alone me." Hermione said nothing. "You still don't trust me, do you Granger?" Malfoy said after a while.

"I just can't help but feel like you're going to fuck me over on this."

"Language," Malfoy drawled, obviously not caring about her choice of vocabulary. Hermione was surprised that she herself, who normally never swore, didn't think twice about using such a word. Her mother had always said it showed a lack of vocabulary, but Hermione disagreed. Sometimes it was the only way to express yourself.

"Well it's true," Hermione murmured. It was her who was breaking their eye contact this time. She felt bad for not trusting him, because after all, she had no reason not to trust him, but even so, there was still a niggling at the back of her mind which made her wonder if she was doing the right thing. In fact, the voice in her head was screaming at her to run away, that it was a trap, luring her here so he could kill her. The others would come looking for her after a while, and they'd be killed as well, and just like that, the tiny glimmer hope for the wizarding world would be extinguished, because she had no common sense whatsoever.

"Why don't you trust me though?" he asked her, not accusingly. His tone was more one of tired frustration. He just sounded completely fed up. He couldn't make sense of it, and neither could she, but that niggling at the back of her head hadn't ceased.

"I don't know," Hermione told him honestly. "Because so far you've lived up to what we agreed, and I want to trust you..."

"So then trust me Granger, I saved your life for heaven's sake! Need I remind you, more than once!"

"Snape saved Harry's life in first year," Hermione reasoned, and Malfoy frowned.

"When?"

"That Quidditch match where Harry's broom almost threw him off. He saved Harry's life, even though Quirrell was trying to kill Harry, and Quirrell was following Voldemort's orders," Malfoy didn't react at all to hearing Voldemort's name, didn't even blink. "So he was working against Voldemort back then, but now look what's happened." Malfoy sighed, reluctantly accepting her point. He didn't think it was fair to be tarred with the same brush as Snape, but when trusting someone at this point in time was very dodgy business indeed, he couldn't really blame her, and Hermione knew it.

"I think he's planning something big though," Malfoy told her, quickly changing the subject. Obviously he'd had enough of her lack of faith in him. Hermione's interest piqued and she felt much more awake than she had done when she'd first sat down with him. "I don't know what, he's not told anyone, but it feels like he's holding back, waiting for something else..."

"Are you sure none of the others know?" Hermione's voice dropped, so it was barely above a whisper. It was unintentional, but when talking about such things, one automatically tried to be as discreet as possible, even if the only potential eavesdroppers were twenty feet high, made of wood and covered in leaves.

"I don't think so. Father would have gloated to me if he knew something, same with Aunt Bella," Hermione shuddered at the thought of Bellatrix Lestrange being referred to as 'Aunt Bella'. It made her sound almost human. "And if the Dark Lord has told anyone, you can guarantee it'll be them." He fiddled with a large brown leaf, before tossing it aside and turning to look at Hermione. He didn't say anything, just watched Hermione as she frowned thoughtfully, her mind racing at a hundred miles an hour, trying to figure out what exactly Voldemort could be planning.

"He won't just go straight in and do it, will he?" Hermione asked, not needing an answer, more of an approval of her line of thought. Malfoy shook his head. "So, he's going to need people to carry it out." Malfoy inclined his head in a small nod. "So with any luck he'll ask you, or someone who'll tell you what's going on, and you'll be able to tell us."

"Not if I find out too late," Malfoy replied grimly. "And that's only if I find out at all." He looked down at the grass beside him, as his left hand ripped up chunks of it and let it fall to the ground, before repeating the action once more. Hermione watched him for a few seconds, noting that he was performing the same ritual that Harry had that very morning.

"In that case we'll just try and have to expect the unexpected," Hermione was remaining optimistic, but if she admitted any form of defeat, then it was suicide. She needed to be positive, because Harry had his low points, and even Ron did occasionally. She needed to say to them 'we can do this', and she knew that there would be no one there to say it to her if she felt like the world was falling to pieces around her. Hermione glanced back over her shoulder and saw two tall figures talking just outside the Burrow. Judging by their outlines, which were lit up quite brilliantly by the half moon it was Harry and Ron.

They were looking around them, as though trying to find something. Hermione's eyes widened as she realised she'd probably been gone for three quarters of an hour at least.

"What?" Malfoy questioned, upon hearing her sharp intake of breath.

"You need to go," she hissed quickly. Malfoy looked up and saw Harry and Ron, who had their backs to them for the moment. Malfoy quickly got to his feet and moved around the side of the tree so he couldn't be seen by Harry and Ron, but was still able to talk to Hermione.

"I'll owl you if I find anything more. I might do a bit of digging, see what I can find."

"Don't put yourself in danger," Hermione told him emphatically.

"Oh come on, Granger, the whole world's in danger no matter what they do." Hermione silently agreed, but it didn't ease her worry. She glanced over to where Harry and Ron were, and they were now looking in Hermione's direction. She wasn't sure if they'd seen her yet, but she wasn't prepared to take any chances.

"I'll see you soon, Draco." Malfoy looked at her curiously for a second, but quickly hid any change in expression. He nodded and disappeared through the trees, amazing Hermione with how quietly he could navigate his way through the darkness, barely making a sound.

After she was absolutely certain he had gone, Hermione got up, smoothed down her cardigan and made her way towards the two boys.

You've been gone a long while," Harry said to her.

"You all right?" Ron asked, surprising both Hermione, and Harry by the looks of it with his soft tone of voice.

"Fine. Come on, let's get inside, it's getting chilly."