A/N: Hi everyone! Just a small warning that this chapter makes references to a Ron/Hermione relationship.

I love hearing everyone's thoughts and guesses as to what's going to happen! Leave me a comment here if you feel so inclined. I read all my comments and love each one, even if I'm sometimes terrible about replying to them.

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I hope you enjoy this one. It's one of my favorites of the early chapters.

Alpha love: BiscuitsForPotter
Beta love: DisenchantedGlow

Draco didn't see Granger until well after breakfast the next day. She shuffled down the stairs, still in her pajamas, and made herself a cup of coffee with a scowl as he read at the kitchen table. Her eyes were lined with dark circles and it appeared that she had gotten even less sleep than he had, which was saying something. He had tossed and turned most of the night, his hurtful words playing over and over again in his mind. Try as he might, he couldn't forget the venom in her voice and the hateful look in her eye.

Swallowing his pride, Draco closed his book and cleared his throat. "Listen Granger," he stammered. "I shouldn't have said what I did last night. I was out of line."

She turned to him, her honey coloured eyes observing him coolly as if waiting for him to laugh or make some other hurtful quip. When he didn't, her expression softened slightly. "Thank you." She sat down at the table with a hesitant smile. "What are you reading?"

Draco figured that this was Granger's version of an olive branch, and maybe it was all of the time he'd spent with her making him soft, but in that moment he was inclined to accept it.

An Order meeting was called for that evening. Granger left early and instructed Ginny to accompany Draco to headquarters. They arrived early and took their seats—Granger was already at the table, and Draco settled along the wall. Charlie and Cho sat next to him, making a point to talk jovially with him as a show for the rest of the Order who were still skeptical of his loyalties.

"Alright everyone, settle down," said Shacklebolt as the seats began to fill. "First order of business today is to tell you all that we had a successful raid on a Death Eater safehouse this morning. Seven Death Eaters were captured."

A few cheers and excited words rippled through the crowd.

"And we owe the success of this mission to Draco Malfoy," continued Shacklebolt.

The audience hushed and Draco felt several sets of eyes on him.

"He performed a reconnaissance mission for us last night, and it was the information he gathered that made the raid so successful."

Charlie clapped him on the shoulder. "Well done, mate."

Cho and Lovegood were smiling at him. Even Granger looked at him with kindness.

"I spoke with Hermione this afternoon and we have decided that Mr. Malfoy's actions have warranted an end to his probation."

Had he heard correctly? An end to his probation? There was a smattering of polite, albeit half-hearted applause as Draco rose to shake Shacklebolt's hand. With a wave of the Minister's wand, the wards were lifted from Draco's wand. He was free. Free from the restrictions on his travel and wand, free from Granger. At last.

That evening, following the meeting, Draco arrived at his newly assigned safe house: the Longbottom house. Now that Neville was grown, Augusta Longbottom had retired and moved to the country to be with her sister, leaving her home in her grandson's care. It was a stately house with more than enough bedrooms to spare. Neville took his own childhood bedroom, Dean claimed the master bedroom as his own, Ginny and Granger chose two rooms across from each other on the upper level and Draco took the room next to Granger's. Though the know-it-all witch was no longer his mentor, Shacklebolt had decided to keep the two of them stationed at the same safe house for a short period to ease his transition into being a full Order member.

When bedrooms had successfully been claimed and everyone had settled in for the evening, Draco found his way to the kitchen through the cheery halls of the house. Upon arrival, he raised his eyebrows when he saw who else was there.

"I thought you were already in bed," he commented to Granger as she waited for the kettle to boil.

"Just making a cuppa before bed. Chamomile. Helps me sleep."

He nodded, not sure what to make of her clipped answer. The question he really wanted to ask danced on the tip of his tongue for a moment before he took the plunge.

"Were you the one who recommended that my probation be lifted?" Draco asked as steam began pouring from the spout.

Granger took her time answering, fussing over her mug first. When she was quite finished she turned and leaned back on the counter. "Actually, Kingsley recommended it after your mission last night. He owled me early this afternoon asking me to come to headquarters before the meeting to discuss it. He asked me if I thought you were ready."

"And?"

"I told him you were."

"Even after our argument last night?"

Granger's lips twitched upwards. "I told you before, Malfoy. Being a prat isn't a crime."

He smiled, tapping his fingers nervously on the counter. "Well, thanks for putting in a good word for me."

"Don't mention it," she chirped before taking a sip from her mug.

Not knowing what else to say, and eager to exercise his newfound freedom, Draco set off to explore the Longbottom house.

For the next three days, Draco's life was not much different than it had been on probation. He and Granger still exchanged pleasantries and he did his best to get along well with the other occupants of the house. However, without any missions to complete, he was still as bored as he had been at the Westenberg house.

At last, one cold October day, nearly two weeks after his arrival, a patronus appeared at the house, flying through walls and landing beside the dining table where they had all been eating lunch.

A silver stag, which spoke in Potter's voice.

"Death Eaters attacking in Bibury, Cotswolds. Come at once."

Granger stood up so quickly that she knocked over her chair. Draco, Ginny, Dean, and Neville jumped up as well, drawing their wands and darting for the fireplace.

They flooed to headquarters, where four other members were waiting while Shacklebolt procured a Portkey to the small village.

The Portkey took them to a sunny hill on the outskirts of the little country town. Ahead of them were several neat rows of quaint cottages and shops. The group moved in quickly toward the old village, keeping their eyes open for enemies. There were sounds of battle up ahead: shouts and cries of pain; flashes of light from spellfire. They saw Potter motion to them from the doorway of a small cottage. He looked a bit frazzled and beckoned them all into the tiny home frantically. All of the Order members filed in quickly and closed the door behind them. There was a map on a small dining table and they all gathered around it.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," Potter said. "We have at least ten Death Eaters. The Aurors have been working to evacuate the civilians, but we need help ending the battle." He rolled out a map of the village. "Here's where the majority of the fighting's been held," he noted, pointing to the town square. "Our best chances for attack are to come from here… and here…"

Draco craned his neck over Ginny's head to see where Potter pointed.

"Hermione, take a small team down this road here. I'll take the rest down the other road. We'll box them in."

Draco's gut twisted and a horrible feeling of dread spread through him. Granger was no military commander. It seemed foolish in Draco's eyes for Potter to put her in charge of a unit. He wanted to speak up, but it was not his place. Here, Potter was in charge.

Granger nodded and turned to the small group gathered around the table. "Alright, I'll take Parvati, Dean, Charlie, and Malfoy."

"The rest of you, with me," ordered Potter. He moved toward the door, four people following him closely.

Once outside, the two teams split up, travelling in opposite directions down narrow streets toward the sounds of battle ahead.

This was wrong. Everything inside of Draco was telling him that a frontal assault was not right. The Death Eaters were excellent duelers, especially the ones hand picked for attacks like this one.

Draco was not the strongest dueler. He wasn't as skilled in combat as the men they would be up against. A brief flicker of fear crossed his mind, but he shook it away. This was not the moment for fear. He had to keep his mind clear and use his strengths…

His strengths…

He slowed down, allowing the others to pass him and he hung back slightly. They were a block from the battle now, and he could see spells flying through the gaps between buildings up ahead. As the others charged forward into the clearing, he skulked into an alleyway which would grant him a bit of shadow and cover.

He peered around the corner and saw a Death Eater dueling with Dawlish. "Stupefy," he muttered, watching the spell race across the courtyard to hit the Death Eater between the shoulder blades.

His position now compromised, he backed into the alley and disappeared around the back of the building, keeping an eye out for other advantageous vantage points. He broke into a Muggle house and climbed up the stairs. From a bedroom window looking out over the courtyard, he was able to see the entire battle. Potter had clearly paid attention during his Auror training. His dueling skills were much more refined now than they had been during the Battle of Hogwarts. The young Auror needed no help stunning the Death Eater who was dueling him.

All of the Weasleys moved with a comfort that could only come from growing up around magic. They trusted it, understood it. Their technique was a bit sloppy at times, but they moved with ease and nearly always got the job done.

Granger's technique was impeccable. She had clearly studied proper wand grips and casting styles in depth. But it was mere academic knowledge without extensive practice. Her movements were too stiff, too stilted. She gave herself away to her enemy. A split second before she cast her spells, Draco could already tell what she was going to do.

A Death Eater had also noticed her subtle weaknesses too and was advancing on her rapidly, deflecting spell after spell as if he were simply swatting at flies. Granger backed up, her brow furrowed in determination.

Draco stunned the Death Eater easily, pausing only a moment before stunning another. Granger's head whipped up in his direction, her eyes meeting his with confusion. Draco darted away from the window in search of a new place.

He continued until the battle was complete, creeping between the shadows and picking off Death Eaters one by one—five in total. At last, the courtyard was quiet, all of the Death Eaters were either stunned or had retreated. Only then did Draco venture into the courtyard with the rest of the Order members.

The Aurors were binding the Death Eaters and transporting them to the Ministry one at a time. Granger approached him. "Why did you fight from the shadows?" she asked quietly.

Draco shrugged, eyes darting around the courtyard. "It's just how I work best," he said vaguely.

"Well, I can't argue with your results," Granger remarked, glancing at the Death Eater who had nearly gotten the best of her. "But you should have told me before you went rogue. I was your team leader, which means—"

A dark figure was raising a wand in the shadows behind Granger and Draco's arm shot up on instinct, wordlessly stunning the man in a flash. The figure crumpled.

Granger whipped around, her mouth agape in shock. "What—?" she stammered breathlessly. She turned back to Draco, her eyes darting between his in surprise, confusion, and—perhaps—a bit of fear.

"Watch your six, Granger," he advised calmly, walking past her to where the stunned man lay.

He leaned down and removed the man's Death Eater mask. It was Snyde. Curious. Snyde was not a dueler. He was too big and burly to move quickly. Perhaps Dolohov was experimenting with changing some of his followers' positions.

"Well done, Malfoy," said Dawlish from behind him. "We'll take it from here."

Draco stood and nodded stiffly. "His name's Snyde. His father is a Death Eater too."

Dawlish waved over another Auror, who shuffled forward and bound Snyde before apparating them both to the Ministry.

Draco walked back to the center of the courtyard where the other Order members waited, many of them looking at him in shock.

"How did you know he was there?" asked Granger.

Draco scoffed. "I saw him, Granger. It's not dark magic."

"Yeah, but one second we were just talking and then the next…"

Draco snorted and turned away from her. "I don't know what to tell you. Our conversation wasn't that interesting."

"Lucky shot, eh, Malfoy?" Dean asked, clapping his hand on Draco's shoulder.

It wasn't. Not at all. Still, he didn't want them to know that. He shrugged. "Yeah, lucky shot."

Potter moved over to stand by the group. "The Aurors have said that they can handle the clean up if you lot want to go back to headquarters. Great job, everyone."

Once everyone had arrived back at headquarters, they each gave their reports to Shacklebolt before Draco and Hermione made their way back to the Longbottom house with the others. Draco retired to his room quickly, eager to get away from Granger and her suspicious eyes.

After just an hour, however, there was a timid knock on his door, interrupting his peaceful solitude. With a sigh, he pushed himself off of the bed and opened the door. Granger stood in his doorway, looking like she wasn't sure why she had ended up there. "Hi," she greeted sheepishly.

He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. If she was going to yell at him for disobeying orders at the battle he wished she would just get it over with. Bloody Gryffindors always needed to talk about everything ad nauseam. "Hello," he returned.

"Can I come in?"

Draco hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to allow her to pass. She stepped past him cautiously and stood in the middle of the room shuffling her feet awkwardly. Draco closed the door and turned to her expectantly.

"What do you—?" he began.

"What exactly was your job with the Death Eaters?" she blurted out.

He blinked. She had never asked him so bluntly before. He could imagine that her brain had been working double over the past few hours to try to figure it out. And he couldn't blame her. She'd seen his skills… or at least some of them.

"Need-to-know," he said simply, knowing it wouldn't be good enough.

"I need to know," she returned, her eyes almost pleading.

"Why?" He challenged, his heart beating rapidly beneath his jumper.

"Because… I don't know." She turned away from him to run her fingers through her hair in frustration. "Because whatever it is can't possibly be as bad as what I'm imagining."

She was wrong. Nothing was as bad as what he had done. Nothing could be worse. "And what are you imagining?" He asked evenly.

Granger shuffled her feet for a moment, refusing to meet his eyes. "You just… you're so quiet and fast. You're always startling people in the houses by accidentally sneaking up behind them. And the way you fought today—sneaking between shadows and stunning people without them even realizing—it just made me think that maybe…" She trailed off, fear suddenly filling her face. "When you stunned that Death Eater earlier after the battle… That wasn't just a lucky shot like Dean said, was it?"

Draco's throat constricted. She knew. She was just too afraid to accuse him. "No," he confirmed. "It wasn't."

Granger suddenly looked very fearful. Her eyes darted to the door like a cornered animal looking for an escape. "Nevermind," she said suddenly. "I shouldn't have come here."

She took a few steps toward the exit, but he was standing in front of the door, blocking her path.

"No," he challenged. "Tell me. Tell me what you think I did." Granger's eyes snapped to his and he could practically see her muster up her Gryffindor courage.

"I think…" She swallowed thickly. "I think you were an assassin."

Silence encompassed them, thick and heavy in the tiny bedroom.

Draco considered his options. He could deny it, of course. But why? How long could he avoid the subject of his past? Perhaps it would be a relief for someone—someone other than Shacklebolt and Dawlish—to know.

"You always were the intelligent one," he quipped casually, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

Granger flinched. "So it's true? You were an assassin?"

Draco dropped his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "Dolohov doesn't give his Death Eaters a choice of job. You're given the job you're most well suited to and then trained to perform it flawlessly," he explained, as if it absolved him of any guilt.

"Did you actually…" her question died in her throat.

"Kill anyone?" He finished for her, his stomach twisted in a knot. "Yes."

He watched her process this news, dreading the moment when she would inevitably run out in horror and share his terrible secret with everyone who had just begun to trust him. "Anyone I know?" she asked.

He hesitated. Having Granger know what he had done was one thing, but having her know what he had almost done to her was quite another. No, telling her that he had been tasked to kill her would certainly be a mistake. "I never killed anyone I knew. No Order Members. Mostly Ministry officials or people who crossed the Death Eaters."

An array of emotions crossed her features. First shock and confusion, then a flicker of fear, sadness, and finally a stiff nod as she set her jaw. "Shacklebolt knows about this and still trusts you?"

"He does."

"You're not going to kill me, are you?"

He nearly laughed at her straightforward naivety. "No, Granger. I never much liked the killing bit anyways."

Granger smiled and he couldn't believe how well this conversation was going. "What was it that finally made you leave?" she asked curiously.

Draco grimaced, not wanting to tell her about his mother. "Dolohov asked too much of me on my final mission, and then he lost his bargaining chip. I'd had enough and he no longer had the tools to keep me there."

That answer seemed to satisfy Granger for the time being. "Aren't you afraid that the Death Eaters are going to kill you since you betrayed them?" she asked, looking genuinely concerned at the thought.

He shrugged. "I'm sure they'll try."

Granger worried her bottom lip between her teeth and her brow furrowed. "You're not frightened?"

Draco choked out a short laugh. "They could try to kill me in battle, and maybe that was their hope today. But then how am I any different than the rest of you? Maybe Snyde was sent to kill me, but he did a rather shite job of that, didn't he? If they want to send an assassin, well… I was the only one they had. It will take Dolohov months to train a new one. Longer if they want them to be better than I was."

Granger took a small step back, one of her hands coming up to nervously touch her neck. "You're pretty confident. You think you were that good?"

"I was excellent," Draco growled darkly. "I didn't like it, but I was very good… It's probably the only thing I'm good at." He'd added the last bit under his breath, but judging by the pitying look in her eye, she'd heard him clearly. Why had he said that? Was there something about being in the Order that forced one to reveal sappy personal truths? He cursed himself for showing her any vulnerability.

"I'm sure that's not true," Granger murmured with a frown.

It was perhaps the nicest thing she'd said to him, and Draco felt something stir within him. Gratitude, perhaps? Before he could linger on why exactly he suddenly felt a bit queasy, a voice drifted up the stairs.

"Hermione!"

Granger's head turned toward the door. "Yes?" She shouted past him.

"Dinner's ready, and I have a surprise for you," Ginny Weasley's sing-song voice returned.

Granger's eyes danced over Draco's face for a moment, her mouth parted like she wanted to say something else. "We should go to dinner," she said at last.

He nodded and stepped aside for her to pass him. Hand on the knob, she paused and turned back to him, her cheeks slightly pink for some reason Draco could not fathom. "I won't tell the others, you know," she offered quietly.

Draco blinked, the strange feeling in him intensifying. "Thank you," he replied.

She opened the door and made her way down the stairs. Draco trailed after her a moment later. He had just reached the last step when he heard Granger's cry of surprise from the kitchen.

"Ron!"

Draco grimaced. How had he forgotten about the Weasel King? He supposed he should consider himself lucky that Weasley had not shown his ugly, freckled face yet. Where had he been all this time? He briefly considered turning around and returning to his room, but he was hungry and besides, this was his home for the week. He shouldn't have to skulk around to avoid Weasley just because the wizard had decided to show his ugly mug today.

Draco walked into the kitchen where Granger had thrown her arms around Weasley's neck. Ginny, Neville, and Dean were there as well, smiling broadly at their friend.

Weasley had always been tall, but he was broader now than he'd been the last time Draco saw him. His hair was long like Bill's and he wore a lumpy burgundy jumper that Granger was clutching with her delicate fingers.

"What are you doing here? How's Spain?" Granger asked, pulling away from the ginger man and grinning up at him.

"Haven't been there in months," replied Weasley, keeping his arms wrapped around Granger's waist.

Perhaps Granger's file had been correct about her suspected romantic relationships. Draco wondered why this thought annoyed him so much.

"I was in France for a few weeks after Spain. Madame Maxime sends her regards," said Weasley, nodding to the others. Draco stayed out of sight behind him, eager to postpone speaking to the wizard for as long as possible. "Then it was Italy, Greece, and Egypt. There were a few assassinations in Italy that kept us busy for a few weeks."

Granger beamed at Weasley. "How long are you back?"

"Just a couple of days. Kingsley wanted us at the meeting tomorrow and then we'll be leaving for Finland on Sunday."

"Who else came back with you?" asked Ginny.

"Oliver, Padma, and Katie. But they're all at Headquarters tonight. I asked Kingsley if he'd allow me to come see you and Hermione for the evening."

"Well, I'm so glad you're here, even if it is for such a short time," said Granger, wrapping her arms around his middle again. When she pulled away, her eyes slid over to Draco and her smile faltered.

Weasley turned around, and when he did, his eyes fell upon Draco. Immediately, the redhead's expression shifted to one of utter hatred. "Why didn't anyone tell me the ferret was here?" he spat.

"Probably because it isn't important. He's one of us now, Ron. Please be nice," warned Granger. "Let's eat, shall we?" she chirped to the group in an effort to diffuse the tension.

Weasley took a few steps towards Draco, his blue eyes sweeping over the Slytherin. "When I heard from Harry that you'd defected I couldn't fucking believe it." He leaned a little closer, looming over Draco in a clear attempt to appear more intimidating. Draco stood his ground. "I still don't fucking believe it." Weasley glanced over at Granger, who was setting plates on the table, her cheeks pink and her eyes flickering between the two wizards nervously. He looked back at Draco and growled. "You'll never change."

"Some things never do, Weasley," Draco spat, pushing past the wizard to sit in his usual chair at the table.

Draco noticed, with some satisfaction, that Granger sat in her typical spot as well—directly next to him, forcing Weasley to pull up a chair between his sister and Dean.

Draco woke slowly while it was still quite dark. It was early—far too early to be awake. For a moment, he wondered what had awoken him and then he heard a soft clunking.

What the hell?

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, wondering where the noise was coming from. He checked his watch to find that it was nearly three in the morning. Everyone should have been asleep. Gradually, he shook the sleep from his head and his senses sharpened. The clunking came from the room next to his—Granger's room.

He stood from his bed and picked up his wand from the bedside table. Perhaps there was an intruder and she needed help. Moving slowly to avoid making any noise, he made his way to the wall and pressed his ear against it. The clunking was even and rhythmic, and now that he was closer he could hear other noises accompanying it.

Breathy sighs and high, throaty moans coming from a girl… coming from Granger. Low grunts and groans from another person… a man.

Draco stumbled back away from the wall with a sneer, his cheeks burning. Merlin's balls. He'd just heard Granger having sex… and with Weasley of all people. Disgusting.

Suppressing the desire to vomit, he climbed back into bed, but knew that sleep would not find him again. The clunking of Granger's bed was growing louder, as well as her breathy sounds of pleasure. He cast a silencing charm on his room, but it was no use. He could still imagine the sound of her.

He needed a drink.

Frustrated, he stood up and left his room, walking silently past Granger's room to make his way down the stairs. Once in the kitchen, he discovered the location of a bottle of firewhiskey and poured himself a generous portion. He sat in the dark and drank for several minutes. How long would he have to sit here? Draco couldn't imagine that Weasley's stamina was anything to write home about. Surely it would be safe for him to return to his bedroom soon.

He was on his second drink when the light flickered on suddenly. Granger shuffled into the kitchen with a yawn and jumped as high as the astronomy tower at the sight of him. "D-Draco, I—" she stammered, her face going beet red instantly. "What are you doing up?"

Draco took in the sight of her. Her normally unruly curls were positively wild, her lips were somewhat swollen, and worst of all, she was wearing Weasley's misshapen burgundy jumper. Her fingertips barely peeked out of the sleeves and the bottom of it fell to her thighs.

She looked so thoroughly shagged. A strange feeling settled within Draco. How long had it been since he'd had a woman? Ages. It's not like there had been much opportunity at the Manor. A few stolen moments with Pansy had been the last, and that had been at Hogwarts before Voldemort's death. Sure, she had tried to start things up again with him when she'd taken the mark, but he'd been so preoccupied with his own tasks and the safety of his mother that he hadn't been interested in the slightest. Now however, it seemed criminal that Granger was having sex more frequently than he was. For Merlin's sake, she was Granger.

She tugged at the hem of the sweater as if to make it cover more of her bare skin. Draco had never seen so much of Granger's legs before. They were shapely and smooth. She shuffled her socked feet in an effort to hide them. In spite of himself, Draco thought, just for a moment, that she looked rather… adorable.

He quickly banished the thought. Get it together, you prat. It's Granger.

When he didn't respond to her, she cleared her throat and pointed to the far wall of the kitchen. "I was just… getting some water."

Draco raised his eyebrows at her and she crossed the kitchen and opened the cabinet. The glasses were kept on the top shelf, and as Granger lifted her arm to reach for one, the bottom of the jumper lifted dangerously. Cheeks flushing, she dropped her arm instantly, tugging the jumper down once more. She made another attempt to retrieve a glass, this time rising up onto her toes, but it was no use. She would be unable to reach a glass without exposing herself to him.

Draco supposed that she could have summoned the cups, but of course, she had likely left her wand upstairs. Where would she be hiding it, after all?

Suppressing a chuckle, Draco rose from his chair and took a few steps to the counter. He reached over her and pulled a glass down from the highest shelf. He handed it to her with a smirk and she blushed crimson and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. They were practically chest to chest, and her eyes were the color of bright honey as they flickered back and forth between his own. Her lips were pink and plump, and just for a moment, Draco found himself imagining that he was the one responsible for their swollenness, and not Weasley.

Granger cleared her throat. "Could you… could you get another one down too?"

Something within Draco tumbled down into a dark place and his smirk turned to a scowl. She needed a glass for Weasley too, and she needed him to get it for her. Though he was tempted to tell her to get it herself, he pushed his irritation aside and pulled down the second glass. He stepped away from her, suddenly disgusted by her presence near him.

"Thank you," she mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

She filled both cups with water from the tap before turning away from him and leaving the kitchen.

Draco picked up his firewhiskey and downed the rest of it, feeling it burn his throat. With a wave of his wand, the glass was clean and put away and the bottle returned to the cupboard. He turned off the lights and made his way back upstairs where it was thankfully quiet.

He climbed into bed and closed his eyes, the haze of the firewhiskey gifting him with quick sleep.

That night, Draco dreamed of wild chocolate curls and wide honey eyes. A warm, willing body taking in every inch of him, delicate fingers clutching at his back in ecstasy, and hot puffs of air escaping a pair of parted pink lips.

A/N: Updates on Mondays

Next chapter posts: April 13th.

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