"His face contorted with a mixture of rage, indecision, and determination. Hermione did not care, she ran all the way up to him before flinging herself in his arms, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around him—she would never let go." A Hermione get's obliviated, Draco defects story.

He can't leave the room. Her room. And it's all the Order's fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something's going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. "There," she spat. "Now your Blood's filthy too!" DM/HG. PostHBP.