A little fic that's been swimming around in my head for a few days. It's totally unedited, but life is busy, and if I don't post now, it might be a while! Next chapter hopefully coming in the next few days. If you like it, please favorite, follow, and review!

JK Rowling owns all.

Unnaturally cold rain pelted Hermione as she ran from the relative safety of the Forbidden Forest. She ducked, heart racing, skin tingling with the proximity of the curse as she became a target. All around, members of the Order, Hogwarts students, and Death Eaters battled. All around, streams of light shot from wands - deep purple, vibrant red, brilliant blue, bright white, golden yellow, deadly green. All around, people screamed, people ran, people fell.

Hermione was a prime target. In the forest, she'd been relatively safe, but now, multiple Death Eater wands turned on her. She knew it was a risk darting out into the open, but she had to get to Harry and Ron. She had to get back to the castle. She had to get back.

She ducked another close shot, aware that many Death Eaters were leaving their private battles so they could chase after her. She looked up. The castle was so far away. She wasn't going to make it.

In a moment of stupid Gryffindor bravery, she ducked and rolled, coming up on her feet a yard or so away, and began casting hexes and curses into the mix of black-robed figures.

"Bombarda maxima! Confringo! Expelliarmus! Impedimenta!" She cast as quickly as she could, putting all of her magic behind it. And then -

Hermione was blasted backward by a bombarda maxima that hit the ground right at her feet. She landed on her back, the air knocked from her lungs, and it felt as if a few ribs may be broken. She needed to move. Needed to get back up. Needed to -

A black-robed person was there, above her. She couldn't see who it was, but they looked down at her and fear lanced through her body. Then, the black-robed person cast a shield charm. "Protego maxima!"

She knew that voice. She would know it anywhere. She would recognize it for the rest of her days.

"Malfoy?" she whispered.

Without a word, he ripped his mask from his face and tossed it aside. He had cuts on his face and his lip was split. And he was looking at her in a wild panic.

"Granger, we have to move!" Around them, his shield waivered as spell after spell hit it. "Now!"

She hesitated for only half a breath, and then she was up. He grabbed her hand and twisted, disapparating them away from the carnage.

They landed roughly on the other side of the Black Lake. Malfoy let go of her hand and ripped the black Death Eater robes from his body, then gripped his left arm to his stomach as if it were injured.

"Are you hurt?" Hermione took a step toward him, still not sure what was going on, but he took a step back.

"You need to get out of here, Granger." He winced and fell to his knees, still gripping his arm. "They're going to come after me."

"What's going on?" she asked, falling to her knees in front of him. He looked away, but she wasn't having it. If people were coming, they needed to act quickly. "Malfoy!" she yelled, grabbing his shoulders.

He looked up at her, eyes wild, then moaned in agony as he folded over his arm.

Without preamble, Hermione jerked his arm toward her and shoved his sleeve up. There stood his Dark Mark, inky black and pulsing, the skin all around the mark red and swollen. He tried to jerk his arm back, but she wasn't having it.

Wand in hand, Hermione pressed the tip to the center of the mark. Draco watched her, face devoid of color, muscles stiff. She looked right into his eyes and was surprised to see that within their silvery depths were little flecks of dark blue. She took a deep breath and said, "Novis morsmordre. Delens."

Draco gasped once, eyes wide. From the point where Hermione's wand pressed into his skin, the Dark Mark slowly faded away until the skin beneath was pale and unblemished as if the mark had never been there.

"What did you - " he breathed. He looked into her eyes with an unreadable expression. "Granger, what did you do?"

"I'm sorry." She released his arm, eyes wide. "It was hurting you. I thought - "

Malfoy lunged at her. His big, warm hands cupped her cheeks and he pressed his lips to hers. She could feel the split in his lip. Could feel his hint of stubble. She was so shocked, all she could do was stare at him, and then he was pulling away, his hands still on her face.

"Thank you." His breath puffed over her lips and she found it was difficult to breathe. "But we're stuck now. That was the only way I could apparate through the wards they've placed."

"Tell me what's going on," Hermione said, gripping his wrists. "You saved me." She tightened her grip. "Why? What's going on?" Her voice was a tight whisper and she felt his thumbs brush her cheekbones.

"I will." Another brush of calloused thumbs. "I promise, but for now, we have to get to Hogwarts."

Hermione looked into his eyes for a long moment. His eyes were clear. Open. Honest.

"Let's go, then." His face relaxed with relief as he released her face and grabbed her hand, pulling her up with him. Across the lake, jets of light still shot, brightening the night in a ghastly, beautiful glow.

"How do we get back?" she asked, his hand a strangely reassuring anchor in her own.

"They can track the mark," he said, his hand spasming around hers. He readjusted his grip. "I was going to apparate you there, but I was afraid they'd follow." He swallowed and looked down at her, his face illuminated on one side by the distorted light reflecting off the lake's surface. "We'll have to go on foot."

Hermione stared up at him and let herself really look. His lip was split open, but the blood had dried. He had a gash above his eye and the blood was trickling slowly. One cheekbone sported a dark bruise.

"We need somewhere to go, first." She tightened her grip on his hand and looked around. "We won't make it back there if we're too hurt, too tired."

Malfoy nodded.

"There," she said, pointing with her free hand. Off to the side was a small shack, half-hidden in the overgrown trees, that looked abandoned.

"They'll see it," he said, his voice low.

"Not when I'm through with it." She was so confident, he followed her when she began pulling him toward it.

She tugged him inside and as soon as the door closed she started casting silently. Her wand glowed. The walls glowed and seemed to hum with magic. And then, all was silent.

"There," she said as she tucked her wand into the holster on her thigh. She turned to him. He stood in the center of the small space, barely discernible in the dark, watching her with another unreadable expression. "Trust me," she said, biting her bottom lip. "They won't be able to find us."

"Is this how you stayed hidden for the last year?" he asked, his voice low and croaky.

"Yes." She swallowed, suddenly nervous. She was alone, in the woods, with Draco Malfoy. The same Draco Malfoy who'd spent six years of school verbally abusing her. The same Draco Malfoy who'd gone out of his way to make her feel inferior. The same Draco Malfoy who'd stood by and watched as his aunt tortured her.

The same Draco Malfoy who'd jumped in front of at least six Death Eaters and dragged her to safety. The same Draco Malfoy who's Dark Mark looked like it was being rejected by his magical core.

"Sit down and I'll take care of your injuries," she said, suddenly nervous. Something in the way he looked at her made her want to trust him, and her gut was rarely wrong, but that didn't mean she had just forgotten the last seven years.

Without hesitation, he glanced around the space and found a stool, then sat on it.

Hermione walked to him, and silently cast the charm for bluebell flames. They sprang to life in a small glass jar and she brought it with her to examine his injuries.

"Hold this, please." She handed him the jar and he took it in both hands, then looked up at her in the soft, blue light. "I'm going to heal these cuts, alright? Then, you're going to tell me what the bloody hell is going on."

"Alright," he said, his voice husky and soft.

With delicate fingers, she prodded the flesh around the cut above his eye. A clean cut. No debris. She then let her fingers fall to his split lip - an older injury, but still, no infection that she could see.

"It'll sting a bit," she said, and he nodded, his silvery eyes wide. In the blue light from the flames, the flecks of blue stood out in stark contrast to his silvery irises and reminded her of a night sky in reverse. She retrieved her wand from her thigh holster, gently held his face with one hand, then let the wand tip hover just above the injury on his forehead. "Episkey," she said quietly. He didn't even flinch as the long gash slowly healed, skin stitching itself back together as if the wound were never there. "OK?" she asked, and he nodded, never taking his eyes off her face.

She touched the skin by his lip and couldn't help but notice the slight widening of his eyes. "Episkey," she barely breathed, and the split in his bottom lip - swollen and crusted with dried blood - closed, returning his lip to its previous unblemished state.

"Thank you," he said, and her hands fell away from his face as she took a step back.

"We should stay in here a while," Hermione said, stepping away further, unsure why her heart was beating faster than usual. "If they tracked your apparition, we need to give them time to look for us, and leave." She leaned back against the wall, just outside the bluebell flame's light. "Now, can you tell me what's going on?"

Across the small room, Malfoy sighed. He sat the jar of blue flames down on a small, rickety table and scrubbed his hands over his face. "You're probably not going to believe me," he said, meeting her gaze.

"You saved my life," she said, crossing her arms over her stomach and wincing - cracked ribs for sure. "I'll trust what you say."

He let his head fall forward slightly, his shaggy blonde hair falling over one eye. He swallowed heavily. "I wasn't supposed to do that," he said, voice gruff.

"Obviously," she said, a small smirk on her lips.

"No, I mean - " he ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick up in some places. "You don't understand. Bloody hell." He sighed again, heavily, then leaned his elbows on his knees and looked up at her. "This will sound unbelievable, but - but I've been working for the Order since You-Know-Who decided to brand me. Back at the start of sixth year."

Hermione felt shock ripple through her body as her mouth fell open slightly. Instead of saying anything, she just nodded, hoping he'd continue.

"I've been working as a traitor. A spy." He ran his hands through his hair again. "And my job wasn't supposed to be over until You-Know-Who was dead. I was supposed to maintain the illusion until then." He nodded, expression tight. "I'm a liability to the Order if the Death Eaters know. And now they know."

"Why?" Her voice was hoarse and again, her heart was acting against her wishes and speeding along inside her chest. "Why save me then?"

He sighed and dropped his gaze, hair falling in front of his face, a few strands clumped together with dried blood. He took a long, slow breath, then looked back at up at her, his silvery eyes bright in the light from the bluebell flames.

"Becuase, Granger, you're the reason I joined the bloody Order in the first place."