Disclaimer: Might go back in time and write it before J.K

The New Spy: I Spy

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

The only coherent stream of thought she had was now racing through her mind. In this situation, she had only her wit—and, as it turned out, that was completely bloody useless without access to her limbs. So, she stared, helpless, literally frozen, up at Draco bloody Malfoy. He was shocked, clearly. Malfoy had been expecting Harry, and he bloody well would have found Harry in Hermione's place if she hadn't intervened.

"Malfoy's up to something. Dark Magic!" Harry had insisted. Although she couldn't disagree entirely, she knew he was tempted to do something rash. When he said he was going to the bathroom, acting very shifty, her eyes practically bugged out of her skull when she caught a glimpse of the silvery robe hanging out of his pocket. So, acting completely on impulse, she grabbed it from his pocket and said she was going to the bathroom. Ron, bless, had said something that involved "just both go to the bloody bathroom, then." As it was, Harry confronted her in the train hall as she started scanning compartments.

"I can handle Malfoy."

"But can Malfoy handle you?" she'd replied. Play at boys' egos. It always worked. "Besides, if he really works for You-Know-Who, wouldn't it be fantastic for him to serve you on a silver platter?"

Harry had mentioned that he would be as likely to kill her, a Muggle-born, on the spot.

Alas, right now, Malfoy was probably conjuring the killing curse in his head. Maybe he was biding his time to freak her out before he murdered her. Or, he was thinking of more creative ways to slaughter a human being. Harry hadn't been wrong—though she would sooner die than admit it, which would certainly be the case anyway. From what she'd heard, however subtle, in this compartment, along with the way Malfoy's hand kept drifting to his forearm, she'd put two-and-two together.

Malfoy was working for Voldemort. "Didn't have a choice", he'd said. Did that make him any less dangerous? She doubted it.

Also—side-note—why on Earth was Ginny and Luna sitting in the same compartment as a bunch of Slytherins? Especially after last year. Both of them had been at the Ministry, they probably ran into Malfoy, Crabbe or Goyle Seniors at some point during the kerfuffle. Here, though, the Slytherins for the most part had been talking as if they didn't even support Voldemort. She'd been paranoid the whole time that they were trying to lull Ginny and Luna into a trap; or that they knew that she was there, eavesdropping on their strange conversation.

The only person canny enough to notice her shifting restlessly was of course Malfoy.

Who was the reason she was currently about to die on the bloody Hogwarts Express before she could even start her N.E. .

During uncertain times, Sorceress Vika resorted to using her cunning and vast knowledge to discover a way out. "There is never an impossible situation," she'd said in a 1502 speech during the Russian goblin revolution.

Hermione realized that though her body was frozen, her eyes were not. Turning her eyes away from Malfoy's blank expression, she cast them about the compartment for anything she could use. Though she had only ever read about wandless magic, she supposed now was a good time as any to start practicing. She envisioned the rack unhinging and whacking into the side of Malfoy's head.

The Slytherin crouched down. If she could've scowled, she would've. She wasn't sure if he'd actually read her mind or not, but either way she had to formulate another plan. While she did, she clenched her eyes shut; she cast her mind to what she knew of Hogwarts Express compartments.

There was a shuffling from beside her. She could feel the tips of his shoes pressing against her ankles; she realized he was probably now sitting on the floor, which again was very un-Malfoyish. If she hadn't been so bloody curious about his demeanour, she would have convinced Harry to not spy on him and left it at that.

"Never took you for the nosey type, Granger," he murmured into the silence. It was almost as if he expected an answer. "You heard everything, didn't you?" A few heartbeats, and then he chuckled, as if he could tell she was imagining scowling at him.

Apart from his even breathing and her erratic heartbeat, all she could hear was the fading crowd of Hogwarts students dwindling away from the platform.

Make the windows shatter.

Explode the cushions of the compartment seats.

Let the bloody curtains strangle him.

But then what? It would take a while for the spell to wear off. She would be laying silently as the train started trundling away from Hogwarts.

A sudden thump near her head made her eyes snap open. Malfoy was very close now. She started counting those flecks in his eyes as his apple-mint breath fanned across her face. Ginny had left him a thoughtful bruise on his cheek, along with the dried blood on his swollen lips. From her peripheral vision, she could tell his hand was resting near her hair, supporting him as he'd lowered his face way too close to hers.

"Do you realize the position you're in right now?" he whispered, eyes drifting across hers. Maybe just make the rack completely drop onto his head. "Was it worth it?" Why did he keep asking her bloody questions?

And… was it worth it? Great, now she knew Malfoy had been recruited by Voldemort. It didn't give her any satisfaction, like she was sure it would do to Harry. In a way, she was somewhat disappointed, although she had no idea why.

A probing feeling in her mind made her scrunch her eyes shut again. Now she was furious, though she supposed she didn't have a right to. He was invading her privacy like she had his. An eye for an eye.

To her surprise, there was a shifting and shuffling. Cracking her eyelid open, she took note of him having shuffled backwards, now hugging his knees with his arms… cautiously, she completely opened her eyes. It was surreal, seeing Draco Malfoy looking like a wolf ready for blood one minute and then a fragile, insecure boy the next.

"You're intelligent, Granger," he muttered. "Would you have found a way around it?" Her mind was spinning from all the possibilities. The obvious answer would've been that she would've stood up to Voldemort, let him kill her. "Intelligent", though? Well, she supposed she would bide her time as his 'supporter' before she found a weak spot and then striked. Of course she wouldn't have let herself get into such a situation in the first place but she supposed Malfoy didn't have much choice in that matter, either.

Hermione's eyes flickered around the compartment for other methods of escape, while he seemed preoccupied with his wallowling thoughts. She locked her eyes on the screws of the rack; focusing all her energy into untwisting it, she'd missed half of what Malfoy had said next.

"—but of course Potter would know all about that, wouldn't he?"

About what? Ugh, never mind.

It might have been her hopeful imagination, but the screw was twitching slightly.

And then all her efforts ceased.

Her eyes snapped into the direction of Malfoy.

At first she thought he was choking. But then, as she watched the tears stream down his silvery eyes, she realized how very, very wrong she was. Bloody hell. What… what was going on? Was she already dead? Perhaps this was the part of her subconscious that imagined Malfoy as a Death Eater lamenting about murdering someone in cold blood.

"He's going to kill us, Granger," he gasped, through shuddering breaths. "My Mother, my Father and I. He will do it without any hesitation, and my Aunt will probably join in with him."

Something coiled within her.

"I can't fail."

Woosh.

Her entire body thrummed as she finally managed to stretch out her limbs. Bolting up to a defensive stance, she gripped her wand in one hand and Harry's invisibility cloak in the other as she stared wearily down at Malfoy. His eyes were wide and startled, tears still rippling, but they'd darkened considerably. Steely, now. Somehow, she'd managed to free herself from his spell.

"That's very powerful magic," he whispered. Not sure how to respond, Hermione backed towards the compartment door. She was just about to twist the handle and sprint away, before something stopped her. The way he sat, dejected, on the floor, his tears silently dripping down onto his knees. For the first time, she saw Draco Malfoy as more than just another schoolyard bully.

"My summer was rather dreadful, actually." He blinked. Then, as if he was recalling a moonlit street with books on cobblestone, realization dawned on his features.

"Why do you say that?"

A pause.

"We're all suffering, Malfoy." With that, she left him alone in the compartment.

As she strode quickly through the hallway and staggered out of the nearest exit of the train, she took several calming breaths. That was really bloody scary. When she next saw Harry, she was going to pick her heaviest book and whack him with it.

Taking her solitary ascent towards Hogwarts castle, inhaling the damp summer grass under the starry sky, she wondered what Harry and Ron were thinking about her absence now. Ron was probably rolling his eyes and saying she was already cooped up in the library, somewhere. As for Harry, knowing full well where she was—

"Hermione!" It was like hearing an angel. He was sprinting down the hill, eyes panicked, clumsy hands grabbing her shoulders when he reached her. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." It's an ironic statement, her strange mind had managed to think, as ghosts do exist here. Muggle habits die hard. His emerald gaze darted across her face while she struggled for words. Suddenly, those shimmering greens darkened. "What the hell did Malfoy do to you?"

Finally, she found her voice: "Can we talk about it later?"

Harry looked positively livid, now.

"What did he do to you, Hermione?" he demanded. The temptation to whack him was back, so she scoffed and started marching up the hill, Harry spluttering behind her. "'Mione!"

She glared over her shoulder, ready to remind him that she would tell him later… but it was from this height, that she had full view of the platform and Hogwarts Express beside it. Her words died in her throat as she watched Malfoy emerge from it, but his head wasn't the only head glowing palely in the summer night's light. Even from this distance Hermione could see the sparkling swirly pink of Luna's weird glasses. Seeming to tell something from her expression, Harry whipped around.

"Why is Malfoy with Luna?" he snapped, his fists clenching, now.

She put a hand on his arm. "Let's just leave them, Harry. Luna knows what she's doing." As strange as she was, Luna definitely seemed to have a better grip of her life than anyone else. Hermione herself found she was grappling helplessly like a fish out of water half the time.

"No," he said firmly. "If you won't tell me what he did to you, then I'll just have to ask him."

"Harry," she hissed. Honestly, sometimes he could be so bloody stubborn. The last thing she needed was more drama with Malfoy. What she had learned was more than enough to last her a lifetime. "He didn't do anything to me," she found herself lying. It wasn't much of a lie, really. All he'd done was frozen her with a hex and did a half-hearted attempt at tormenting her.

Harry whirled around, giving her a disbelieving look.

"It was what I found out that shocked me." His gaze went hungry, then.

"What?"

"Not here," she said, firmly. For a second, he looked like he was about to argue. But then, he nodded stiffly. As Harry rested a comforting arm around Hermione's shoulders, they watched Luna and Malfoy disappear from the platform into the entrance tunnel. Then, they turned around and made the remaining journey to the castle.