A/N: Remember: First part is present, second part is past.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling. I write to learn. No money is being made.

Chapter 3 – I'm Not Myself, You See

Hermione waited more patiently this time for the lift that took her, the guard, and her companion to the level of the prison where they would speak to Draco. The ride was slow and silent, giving her a moment to think about her last conversation with Ron.

He had not been pleased to learn that she would be visiting Draco again.

"Why are you wasting your time on that … that despicable Death Eater?" he shouted. "Why are you trying to help him? You should be just as thrilled as Harry and me that he's right where he belongs!"

Hermione sighed, exasperated. "This is the right thing to do, Ron. If he doesn't deserve to be in prison, and I can help, then I'm going to."

"He does deserve it!" Ron's voice hadn't dropped a single decibel. "I could have died because of him. Have you forgotten that?"

"No," she said, her patience wearing thin. "But we know all about that now. He didn't want to do what he was doing, and he certainly didn't target you."

"I don't care! That pasty, filthy scum deserves to rot for the rest of his pitiful life."

"How can you say that? He helped the Order! Justice demands that all evidence should be presented, even that which might, Merlin forbid, paint him in a good light." Hermione crossed her arms.

"I don't care," Ron repeated stubbornly. "His family has caused—"

"His family will be punished, I'm sure," Hermione interrupted. "HE does not deserve life in prison!"

"How can you forget how horrible he was to us?" Ron demanded angrily. "You, especially! He called you offensive names, made fun of you, and yet you're the first to line up to free the git!"

"That was a long time ago, Ron."

"Not that long! Just a year, Hermione. One year."

"It was a war ago," she said quietly. This was the closest she had ever come to telling someone about what Draco had done for her, but she couldn't. It might give Ron pause, but in the end, even saving her life wouldn't change his mind. He, much like Draco, was very stubborn and stuck in his ways.

"He should stay in prison," Ron said through clenched teeth, his eyes flashing with anger.

"It's not right, Ron," Hermione gritted out. "He did good things during the war, and he should be recognized for it just like you and me!"

"I do not care," Ron said. "Nothing he could have done outweighs all the rotten things he's done."

Hermione gasped and shook her head, astonished at the truth behind Ron's anger. "You don't like him, I know that. But would you condemn him to life in prison, at seventeen, for a few stupid mistakes?"

"Yes!" Ron shouted without really thinking through her question. "You said it yourself—he is foul, and loathsome." He tried to take her hand, but she jerked it back. This only made him angrier. "The world will be better off without him."

Again, the truth almost jumped from Hermione's lips, but she restrained it. She could not, however, prevent the tears that leapt into her eyes. Without knowing it, her friend had said that Draco's act of saving her life was not enough to earn him any merit.

"Is that really what you believe?" she whispered, pain and disbelief in her voice.

Ron faltered, confusion flickering through his eyes. "I … I just …" Then his shoulders slumped. "I don't want you to go see him. I don't trust him, and I don't like him."

"He's in prison, Ron. There are guards everywhere, and his hands are bound. He can't hurt me." That wasn't entirely true; his words could certainly sting if he used them as weapons, but she didn't think he would. Not anymore.

He rubbed his head, mussing his hair, something he always did when he was nervous. "I just think … well, this … thing you're doing. Might not turn out so good. He's just using you to get out, saying what you want him to hear."

Hermione frowned. She had no idea what he was talking about, but then it dawned on her. He was jealous. She was choosing to spend a portion of her free time to help Malfoy, and he thought there was more going on. Ron thought that Draco was trying to sweet talk her into helping him, pretending to care about her in order to get what he wanted. It was absolute rubbish, of course. Nothing could be further from the truth.

If Ron knew just how much of her mental energy had been spent on Draco Malfoy already, he would probably Disarm her and lock her away to prevent her from ever seeing him again.

"Here we are," said the guard as the lift jerked to a halt. He didn't follow her into the meeting room, just held open the door.

Hermione met Draco's eyes for an instant before his were diverted to the hooded and cloaked figure who had come with her. He frowned and then looked back at Hermione, a questioning look on his face.

She began, "Malfoy, this is—"

"You may call me Meda, Draco." Andromeda Tonks removed her hood, allowing Draco to lay eyes on her for the first time in both their lives. Her short, black hair was streaked with red, orange, and white strands. She smiled warmly.

Draco's frown deepened. "You must be my Aunt Andromeda," he said finally.

"Meda," she corrected. "I cannot tell you how happy I am to finally see you, Draco."

"Shall we sit?" Hermione asked, indicating the two empty chairs. Once seated, she said, "Andromeda has a few things to say, Malfoy."

"All right," he said, turning his full attention on his Aunt.

Andromeda reached into her robes and pulled out a stack of letters wrapped in twine and laid it on the table. "Do you recognize these?" she asked.

Draco hesitated before reaching both hands out to pull the letters closer. Then he undid the twine and opened the top envelope. As he read, surprise registered on his face. "I … I didn't write this," he said, looking up at Hermione.

"We know," she said. "Snape did."

"I found these letters among my son-in-law's things," Andromeda explained. "I didn't know what they were, so I took them to the Order."

Draco nodded, then stumbled over his next words. "I-I was sorry to hear about my cousin and her husband."

Andromeda smiled kindly but tears pricked her eyes.

"I knew what they were immediately," Hermione said. "Snape had been writing to Remus with the information you provided, using your name, so that you would get the credit. I saw him write one of the letters, in its entirety, in one of the memories, after you had given him some information you had learned. That very letter is in the stack."

Draco stared at the letters in poorly concealed amazement. "So … what you're saying is, there is proof that I was helping the Order."

"Yes!" said Hermione, beaming.

"I … wow." He turned to his Aunt. "I cannot thank you enough for doing this. You don't even know me, and … well, I doubt I would have been very accepting of your help not too long ago."

Andromeda smiled, and it seemed to Hermione as though it lit the entire room.

"Your mother is the only family I have left," she said softly. "I was happy to be able to help, and Hermione has just been wonderful with all of this."

Draco glanced at Hermione. "Yes, she has."

Hermione fought a threatening blush.

Draco shook his head, chuckling. "I never imagined I would get out of here. I'd basically given up hope. And now …"

"Now, we have to get all the evidence lined up," said Hermione, her tone all-business. "The memories have been authenticated. We'll present these letters, featuring the one in Snape's memory, and together with the testimonies from Harry, myself, Andromeda, and others, I really think you've got a chance."

"Wait," said Draco. "Potter? What's he got to do with this?"

"Well, he's going to present Snape's good character. At this point, most people know that Snape was really working for the Order … or, rather, Dumbledore, but we need to tailor that into how it applies to you."

"Potter agreed to this?" Draco asked suspiciously.

Hermione bit her lip. "Not yet, no. But he will, I assure you. Don't worry about Harry—he will be there."

"What are, um, you going to say?" he asked.

"I will be discussing the memories and how they pertain to these letters. Andromeda will introduce the letters." She knew he was referring to him saving her life. "That is all."

Draco considered her for a moment and then said, "I am okay with you doing … whatever has to be done."

"Oh!" Hermione said, her eyes widening. "I will certainly keep that in mind."

Then Andromeda spoke. "Your mother will be there, Draco. She was released under house arrest a few days ago."

"Yeah?" he asked, incredulous. "How is that possible?"

"Harry," replied Andromeda. "Apparently, your mother played a significant role in preserving his life the night of the final battle."

"That's putting it mildly," said Hermione. "She basically saved his life." She sent Draco a meaningful look.

"How?" Draco asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"It's a long story," Hermione replied. "I'll have to tell you another time. Our time in here is almost up."

Just then, a knock sounded on the door. "Five minutes!" called the guard.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Draco said, giving Hermione an awkward smile.

"It was wonderful to meet you, Draco," Andromeda said, standing. "I look forward to getting to know you better. I've already seen your mother, and she sends her love."

"When you see her again, please tell her I love her as well, and I hope to see her soon."

"I will. Until we meet again, I bid you farewell." Andromeda bent her head in parting and left the room without another word.

Hermione hadn't expected that but didn't want to rush after her without saying goodbye to Draco. That would be strange. They stood opposite each other across the table, neither knowing just what to say.

The guard knocked again, and Hermione jumped slightly. "So. I reckon I'll see you … soon," she said, collecting the letters and tucking them away.

"Right," said Draco. "Just another nine days until my trial begins."

They stared at each other for another few seconds, and then Hermione said, "Well, bye." She turned and walked out without waiting for a response.

Andromeda was waiting for her. "The guard is by the lift," she said as they began to walk. "I cannot thank you enough for bringing me with you."

"It was no problem," Hermione insisted. "I'm glad you got to meet your only nephew."

"He's very handsome, if I may say so," said Andromeda, giving Hermione a smile. "Though, perhaps I am a little biased."

Hermione's stomach flopped pleasantly, and it was all she could do not to groan out loud. The last thing she needed was to feel something for Malfoy; however, part of her admitted that she had blown past 'feeling' for him a long time ago.

Head down, eyes and ears open. Don't call attention to myself, blend in. Easier said than done, Draco thought as he headed to his first class of the day. All of the students were now required to attend Muggle Studies, where Alecto Carrow would be teaching.

He sat in a clump of Slytherins, Pansy on one side and Goyle on the other.

"Muggles," began Alecto, "are filth. They are like rodents. They carry diseases, multiply like Weasleys, and spread their germs everywhere. We will begin this class by learning of these diseases and how to avoid catching them."

Draco took a deep breath and readied himself to take notes.

Halfway through the class, Padma Patil, a pretty girl in Ravenclaw, raised her hand to dispute something Alecto had said. Alecto grinned wickedly and hexed the girl. Patil cried out in shock and pain, and Draco could see a burn mark on her arm.

"There will be no discussion of the facts presented in this class," said Alecto gleefully. "If you have a problem with that, you will be dealt with similarly. Now, as I was saying …"

Goyle leaned over and whispered, "That was incredible! Teachers can hex students? This year is going to be bloody brilliant!"

Draco forced a laugh and returned to his notes. The days when he found joy in the suffering of others felt like a different lifetime. How was it possible that in less than a year, he had changed so drastically? He would have to make an effort not to let anyone pick up on it, or he risked drawing the kind of attention Snape warned him about.

The rest of his classes were interesting, to say the least. Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions were conducted much as they had been under Dumbledore, with Slughorn's elevated nerves the only exception. In Transfiguration and Charms, the Slytherin students treated the teachers horribly, knowing they would not be punished for it. Draco attempted to join in, but his heart wasn't in it.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was an entirely different matter.

"In this class," drawled Amycus Carrow, "not only will you be learning about the Dark Arts, but you will be learning how to use them." He smirked stupidly at the cheer that rose from the Slytherin side of the room. "First up: the Cruciatus. This will be used for punishment this year instead of detention. It'll waste less time, in the long run."

Draco's blood ran cold. He had only attempted the curse once, and that encounter had turned out rather disastrously for him.

"All of you will be required to learn this spell," he said, his eyes falling and narrowing on Draco. "And you will perform it in front of the class in order to move on to the next spell."

Without conscious thought, Draco turned his head slightly in the direction where Granger had always sat with respect to his usual seat in Potions: behind and to his left. It was strange, not seeing her hand flapping in the air, ready to protest despite the consequences to herself or her friends. It was probably a good thing for Mudbloods that they weren't allowed in school this year.

ooo

Draco went that night after dinner to Snape's office and told the Headmaster what Amycus had said.

"I don't think I can do that curse," he said agitatedly. "I've not got it in me to really mean it. Aunt Bellatrix thought my progress this summer was horrendous."

Snape looked almost bored. "Pretend the subject is Potter," he drawled. "Surely then you won't have any problem."

Draco frowned in confusion. "You … you want me to use the Cruciatus?"

"You have no choice, Draco. Spells of this nature—Dark spells—are what the Dark Lord wants the students here to learn. He has chosen this curriculum; there is nothing you or I can do to change that. All you can do is make the most of the situation."

"How do I do that? Sir."

"Do as you're told," Snape replied.

"Yes, but … I don't think I'll be able to use Potter as proper motivation anymore.'

Snape slowly turned and for the first time, looked into Draco's eyes, one eyebrow cocked. "Oh? And why is that?"

"I guess I don't exactly hate him anymore, sir."

"I see," said Snape, who looked as though he was slowly chewing on Draco's revelation. "What about Granger?"

Despite his best efforts, Draco felt heat creeping into his cheeks at the mention of Hermione. "Her either."

"Why?" Snape asked, suddenly far too curious for Draco's liking. "What happened?"

"N-nothing I wish to talk about," Draco replied.

"Fascinating," said Snape. Unlike most instances where he used the word, this time he sounded as though he meant it. He studied Draco, as if the information he sought could be found written on his face. "Tell me why you no longer despise her."

"No," Draco said firmly. Even though he could trust Snape with this, he didn't want to reveal the truth. That night had been … extraordinary. He and Granger had formed a bond, and he wasn't entirely sure it had been dissolved. He didn't want to risk anything, and if Snape was still working for the Order, then it would be possible for word to get out.

Draco's abject refusal seemed to intrigue Snape even more. "I can, of course, retrieve the information through Legilimancy, but I would rather you tell me yourself."

"Aunt Bella has taught me to guard my mind. I was a very quick study." He didn't know why he was engaging in a kind of power play with the vastly more experienced and skilled wizard, but he would protect that night with Granger with everything he had.

After a few moments of intense scrutiny, Snape said, "It is no matter, for now. I would like to hear the story though, Draco. I'm intrigued at what could cause this change of heart. The other is understandable, but this … this is something else entirely." Then he shrugged, his manner flippant. "There is time for that, of course."

"Yes, well, I still don't know what to do about this … situation, sir," said Draco.

"I believe that is easily remedied. For now, Amycus is most interested in your performance. You are Lucius Malfoy's son, Bellatrix's nephew, and you are the only student at present to have been given the Mark. A certain level of ruthlessness is to be expected from one with such … credentials."

Snape began to slowly pace his office. "However, you were also given a task that would have cemented your place in the Death Eater's circle, and you failed—in front of me, the Carrows, and Greyback. To say that you have something to prove is an understatement. You have quite a potential reputation, with blood from both your father and your mother's family. I see two paths before you."

He stopped pacing and put his hands on the back of his chair, fixing his eyes on Draco. "One: you rise to meet the expectations of those around you—and not only your teachers. Your fellow classmates heard you brag about your task for the better part of a year, and they anticipate follow-up."

"I don't want that, Professor. I-I don't want to be a-a Death Eater." It was the first time he had said it aloud, save the one time he'd been under the Truth Serum.

"That leaves you with only one path. For years, you excelled in playing the part of the whiny, spoiled, arrogant, and cowardly aristocrat. I'm not sure how much of that was the act and what was real, but I believe the cowardly part, especially, can go a long way toward relieving you of the spotlight. In addition, someone will step up and fill the role of 'most promising Death-Eater-to-be.' You won't be given the difficult assignments or asked to do anything very important."

Draco frowned. He couldn't deny being spoiled, and arrogance came with his station and his bloodline. It had been ingrained in him that he was superior since he was a small boy. He bristled at being called whiny but in retrospect, could see Snape's point. He was, undoubtedly, a coward. At the same time, he had, in the past, exaggerated certain things in order to achieve a desired end. Case in point, the injury to his arm in third year after the incident with the Hippogriff.

Though he didn't relish perpetuating the idea that he was a coward, it was, indeed, the better alternative.

"The more sniveling, the better," Snape said with a chuckle.

Draco scowled. "Why is this so amusing to you? Sir?"

"It's not so amusing as much as ironic."

Draco waited, but Snape didn't seem interested in expounding. "I'm afraid I still don't understand."

Snape sighed. "I have watched you grow up since you were a baby, Draco. You have gone from that spoiled, arrogant, and whiny child to a young man who is willing to go against what he has been taught all of his life in order to do the right thing. You have finally grown out of your cowardice, only to have to put it on again as an act so that you might carry out your subterfuge." He smirked. "At least you haven't fallen too out of practice."

Snape's words were both complimentary and derisive, but it was more approval than Draco had ever received from his father.

"You really believe I'm doing the … right thing?" Draco asked.

"Indeed, I do," Snape replied. "How have you been sleeping since arriving here?"

Draco frowned, surprised at the question. "Just fine, why?"

"How does the quality of your restfulness compare to last year?"

"It's much better. I have no problems sleeping, no more nightmares or waking up in the middle of the night screaming. I'd say it's a vast improvement."

Snape nodded sagely. "I have been leading a duplicitous life for nearly twenty years, and in those twenty years, not once have I lost sleep wondering if what I'm doing is the right thing."

Draco said nothing, letting his mind focus on the crackling sounds from the fireplace.

"Listen to me, Draco," said Snape after a few minutes. "I will only say this once. What you are going to do this year—spying on the Dark Lord's servants—will not be an easy task. It will not be glamorous, you may learn things that upset and shock you, there may be some danger involved, and there's a chance no one will ever know what you're doing."

"You mean, at the end of … well, the war, I suppose … people won't know about me spying?" He stared hard at the Headmaster.

"There is a chance, Draco. No one can foresee all possibilities. You, right now, are the only person alive who knows the truth about me."

Without either of them realizing it, the fire had dulled to embers. Snape's face was hidden in shadows, the soft light showing a man aged beyond his years.

"I only told you," he continued, "because I see a lot of myself in you. When I was your age, the Dark Arts fascinated me, and I let my interest get carried away and as a result …" Snape swallowed hard. "Someone that I cared very deeply for was lost. I don't want that to happen to you. I was given a lifeline, and I took it. And so, I offered one to you."

"Thank you, sir," Draco said quietly. He didn't know how long he had been in Snape's office, but the castle seemed silent, like an enormous underground cave. "I reckon I should turn in."

"Yes. As Head Boy, you are allowed in the halls later than other students, but it wouldn't do to be seen by the Carrows," said Snape.

Draco stood and made his way to the door. "Thank you again, sir. Goodnight."

ooo

End Notes: Thanks for reading! Another chapter up next Friday! Many thanks to Shug, Pokeystar, and elyaeru for the excellent betas!