"M-master?" Ginny fumbled. "But that would mean that... Grimmauld Place belongs to... Draco?"

Hermione's eyes were focused in concentration. "It makes sense. According to Wizarding law, if the predecessor dies without creating a will, an heirloom such as Grimmauld Place will pass to the ownership of the next male in the family line. Since Harry had no children, the house would have reverted back to the ownership of the Black family, but there are no males left. Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Andromeda were the last Black descendents, but since they are not males they are ineligible. Draco was the only son born to any of them."

Ginny and Draco stared in disbelief at Hermione who gave a small shrug. "Did no one else pay attention in History of Magic?"

"Apparently not, but we appreciate the lesson," Draco grumbled sarcastically. "Now, elf, did you take a watch from my room?"

"Which room, master?" Kreacher asked.

"Does it matter which room? You heard the mudblood, all the rooms are mine. Did you take a bloody watch or not?"

"Kreacher took a watch, but he was not aware that it was master's watch."

"Bring it to me," Draco snapped. "And there better not be a single scratch on the bloody thing."

Ginny and Draco watched Kreacher slip from the room to the hiding place where he hid all the nicknacks he collected. Hermione, however, was staring disgustingly at Draco.

"What the bloody hell are you looking at?"

"You could be a little nicer to him," she glared. "Kreacher has already been known to leak information to your Aunt Bellatrix when Sirius treated him awfully. What if Kreacher decided to let Aunt Bella know where you are?"

The color flooded from Draco face. "You're lying."

Hermione shook her head. "Kreacher had all the information about the Order of the Phoenix, which used this place as its headquarters, and when Bellatrix treated him kindly and asked him for information, he gave it to her. I don't care what you think of house elves, but if you don't want your own elf turning your over to You-Know-Who, you'd better be nicer to him."

Draco's mouth fell open and he fought for something to say. He wanted to tell Hermione off and tell her to shut her mouth. Or maybe, he would tell her to leave his house since it was his, after all. But he couldn't do that; It was Hermione who had saved him after all. Luckily, he was saved from having to say anything because Kreacher hobbled back into the room carrying Draco's watch carefully in his hands.

"Your watch, Master," he said and bowed low so that Draco had to stoop to snatch the watch from his hands.

Hermione looked at him expectantly and he narrowed his eyes.

"Erm... thank you," he said, looking at Hermione for approval. She nodded encouragingly.

"Kreacher wishes only to please his Master," the elf said obediently before bowing again and leaving the room.

"Was that so hard?" Hermione asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'll be in my room."

Ginny waited until Draco was out of earshot before she said anything. "I've never had an extended conversation with him, but Draco really is a prat."

Hermione smiled. "There's a little good in him... you know, like a tiny, miniscule bit..."

...x...x...x...

There was a knock at the door.

"Go away!" Draco called, not even bothering to open his eyes.

"Draco, I need to talk to you."

"I said, go away!"

He cursed as he heard the door creak open. Hermione stepped into the room and eyed him curiously. "It's important," she said.

Draco groaned. "Everything is important to you. Go on, tell me, so I can get back to my nap."

Hermione scowled. "Ginny doesn't want me to tell you; She thinks you're going to run out on us. But I think once I've explained everything, you'll want to help."

"What are we doing?" Draco droned. "Picking out curtains for the downstairs bathroom? Honestly, I'd stay away from orange and yellow, but I think everything else is fair game."

She was less than amused. "This isn't funny, Draco. I need you to pay attention."

With a huff, Draco opened his eyes and swung himself up, hanging his feet off the side of the bed. "Well spit it out, Granger, if it's so damned important."

"We know how to defeat You-Know-You," she explained. "Dumbledore gave Harry instructions and we've been working on it for a year now."

"Well if Dumbledore knew how to defeat him, why didn't the old bat do it himself?"

"He didn't have time," Hermione said, shaking her head. "But that's not the point. The point is that we know how to defeat him now, or at least make him mortal again. So, will you listen?"

Draco pursed his lips, contemplating. "What do you mean make him mortal?"

Hermione smiled, knowing that Draco had taken the bait. "Can I sit down?" she asked. "It's a bit of a long story."

"If you must." He groaned, scooting over on the edge of the bed to make room for Hermione.

Hermione took a seat nervously next to Draco and folded her hands on her lap. "You-Know-Who was obsessed with becoming immortal, so he split his soul and hid the pieces in Horcruxes."

"Whore what?"

"Honestly..." she said, rolling her eyes. "HorCRUX. It's an extremely dark object into which one places a piece of their soul. That way, if the person dies, a piece of their soul still lives on. Are you following me?"

He furrowed his brow. "I think so. Continue."

"It's very difficult to destroy a Horcrux," she explained. "You have to destroy the object, whatever it might be, beyond magical repair. Things like basilisk venom and Fiendfyre can destroy them. Incidentally, your friend Crabbe helped up destroy one of them when he set the Room of Requirement on fire.

You-Know-Who made six horcruxes, and we've managed to destroy all but one."

"And if you destroy the last one, he'll die?" Draco asked.

"Not exactly. If we destroy the last one, then You-Know-Who can be killed. At the moment, if you hit him with a killing spell (assuming you got close enough and weren't killed first) you might kill the piece of the soul in him, but he'll still have a piece of his soul left in the final horcrux."

"Do you have any idea where the last horcrux is?"

Hermione nodded. "You know the giant snake he always has with him, Nagini? She's the last horcrux."

Draco's eyes bulged. "We have to kill the snake?"

She nodded again. "But there's more."

He groaned. "More? Like, it gets more complicated?"

"Exactly. Were you ever paying attention in History of Magic when Professor Binns talked about the Death Stick or the Stick of Destiny?"

"I probably wasn't paying attention that day. What's your point?"

Hermione huffed impatiently. "Basically, there is a wand in existence more powerful than any other wand ever created and guess who has it at the moment?"

"You-Know-Who?"

"Yes."

"Well bloody fucking hell," he sighed. "I guess I've settled for the losing side, haven't I?"

Hermione glowered at him. "Don't say that. You've picked the right side, Draco. And we're going to kill him. We're going to avenge Harry's death, and everyone else who gave their lives fighting."

"That's great and noble and all, but you're all going to die," he smirked. "Good luck with your plans."

"We need your help, Draco," she pleaded. "The more people we have involved, the better our chances will be."

Draco shook his head persistently. "No offense, but I plan to stay as far away from You-Know-Who as possible. If you were smart, you'd do the same."

"Just think about it," she begged. "And if you really decide not to help us, I have one favor to ask."

"What favor?"

"Grimmauld Place is protected by the Fidelius Charm," she explained. "That means the only people who know the location can find it. There are a few others alive, like the Weasleys and Kingsley Shaklebolt who know the location, but I doubt they'll come here.

The favor I ask is that you continue to let us use this place as a hideout until You-Know-Who is destroyed."

Draco looked dumbfounded. "Yea, that's fine, I guess."

To his surprise, Hermione smiled and he felt the smallest sense of pleasure. "Thank you. I'll leave you alone now."

...x...x...x...

Draco lay awake in his bed some time later; He was staring up at the ceiling, thinking. His thoughts seemed to consume him, eating away at him from the inside like a parasite: It seemed that he would never stop owing Potter.

First, Harry saved his life in the Room of Requirement when he could have easily left him to the Fiendfyre and now, as a result of his death, Grimmauld Place was his. Harry's house was now his house. He cursed as an unfamiliar emotion overcame him, sweeping through him like a wave. Could he possible be feeling... grief?

For the first time in months it was not fear he was feeling, but sadness, loss, anguish. And this all for a boy who had never even been his friend. Try as he might to be angry with himself for feeling these things, he could not. He was in Potter's debt and until he repaid it, he would not know peace. Would finishing the work that Harry started, would defeating Voldemort possibly pay back that debt? And was he willing to take up the work that Harry had started? If he died trying then it would have been in vain that Potter saved him. But maybe Potter had saved him to do exactly that, try.

And then there was Granger. If it hadn't been for her, Draco would still be back at the Manor living under Voldemort's rule. His parents were still unaware of his deception, but they would soon learn and the bounty on his head would be as great as the one on Granger's. They were in this together, whether he wanted to be or not, and from the way she talked, she was not giving up on him.

Draco cursed and slammed a pillow over his face. His wished he had a Sleeping potion so he could go to sleep without having his mind overrun by these blasted thoughts.

...x...x...x...

It was nearly 3 o'clock in the morning when Hermione heard something crash downstairs. Her hand immediately shot to her wand on the nightstand.

"Ginny!" she whispered. "Ginny, there's someone downstairs."

However, Ginny continued to snore softly in her sleep.

Reluctantly, Hermione rushed across the room and opened the door. The hallway was dark, as well as the stairwell, but she could hear someone moving downstairs in the kitchen. She assumed it was Kreacher, but decided she had better check it out anyway. As quietly as she could, Hermione inched her way down the stairs, her wand outstretched in front of her. Her heart was thundering in her chest and she could hear it pounding in her ears. She thought about turning back to wake Draco, but she was already near the bottom of the stairs and turning back would waste too much time.

The kitchen door stood wide open and a dim light lit the room beyond. Quickening her pace, Hermione hurried to the doorway and paused, taking several deep breaths before peering around the corner. Something inside the room fell, clattering loudly to the floor, and almost making Hermione squeal.

"Fuck!" someone mumbled.

Hermione slowly peered through the doorway and saw a flash of blonde hair bending to pick up what had fallen.

"Draco-" Hermione said but she was cut off by a blinding flash of red light.

She jumped out of the way and the curse hit the door behind her.

"Bloody hell, sorry Granger. I'm a bit, erm, jumpy."

"What are you doing? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Hermione asked, approaching carefully as though another curse might fly her way at any moment.

"Late," he said. "I was hungry. But I've never had to make anything before and I can't even find a bloody knife."

"You could have called Kreacher," she suggested.

Draco shrugged. "Yeah, well the bloody toe rag is sleeping and I didn't feel like waking him up."

"So you woke me up instead," she forced a laugh. "How lovely. Let me help you."

"Go back to sleep, Granger. I don't need your help."

"Well, I can't sleep if you're making enough noise to wake the dead. I'm surprised you didn't wake the portrait of Mrs. Black."

"Mrs. Black?"

"There's a portrait who likes to scream about hating mudbloods and blood traitors down the hall," Hermione explained. "If you wake her up or disturb her, she'll scream."

"Ah," Draco said halfheartedly as he watched Hermione make him something to eat. He felt guilty about waking her and now having her make him dinner. His first thought should have been to call the house elf, but it honestly wasn't.

"Here you go," she said, pushing the plate across the table to him. "Bon apetite."

Draco cracked a smile. "Thanks."

Instead of heading back upstairs like he imagined she would do, Hermione got some bread and cheese for herself and sat across from him at the table.

"Aren't you tired?" he asked dryly.

"A bit," she admitted.

"You don't have to keep me company."

"I'm not. I'm eating bread."

Draco smirked and ate his own food.

"Can I ask you a question, Draco?"

"I'd assume you're going to whether I say you can or not."

"Very funny," she snapped. "When the snatchers took us to your house, why didn't you tell them it was Harry? You knew it was him."

Draco almost choked on his food and he took a quick swig of water. "I don't know. I guess... I didn't want it to be him."

She looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

He took a moment to think. "I mean, as long as he didn't get caught, it meant that there was hope for everyone else. They might be able to hide too and not get caught."

"That if you left, you'd have a chance," Hermione expanded.

Draco nodded slowly. "Yea. If my family and I somehow got out, escaped, we could stay on the run. If Potter, the most wanted person in the world, could do it for a year, I figured we could make it too. But my parents wouldn't leave; They were too afraid."

They sat in silence for another long while, even after Hermione had finished eating her bread and Draco was left picking at the scraps on his plate.

"Can I ask you a question, Granger?"

She nodded silently.

"Do you have a plan?

"Of course. Defeat You-Know-Who."

"Great plan," he smiled. "And how do you plan to do that?"