This is set in Hermione's sixth year, and is completely different from the HBP.
Yes, it's a Hermione/Draco Fanfic, my all-time favorite.

Note: This is rated M. Don't say I didn't warn you. There is nothing explicit in this first chapter, and I promise it's not too horrible. Please don't delete my story. Besides, after this chapter, the rest will be rated mostly rated T. Give it a chance, and I think you'll like it!
Disclaimer: I definitely do not claim to own Harry Potter. All characters and such belong to JK Rowling, I only borrow them for a little. :)

Hermione was positively furious.

It would have been impossible for anyone to not realize it, as her anger radiated off her body in tidal waves and kept everyone backing away from her as far as possible. It wouldn't have been a stretch to say that steam was billowing out of her ears, and electricity crackling through her now straight, long auburn hair.

The summer before sixth year had been good to Hermione, as she had finally bloomed into her figure; medium height, lithe, and graceful. Of course, she would lament over not having "an ass" or "any boobs at all", but deep down even Hermione couldn't deny that she had been receiving more attention than usual from the male population of Hogwarts.

In fact, most of the eyes belonging to the said population were currently trained on Hermione's backside as she angrily strode away. She was always cuter when she was mad.

"Just like Ron to be a royal ass about it. I trust him, Dumbledore trusts him, for HEAVEN'S SAKE even HARRY trusts him! Why can't Ron? I mean, he's come over to our side, given us plenty of vital and useful information, and proven himself time and time again. But noooo, Ron can't let go of a stupid little grudge…"

Hermione was hissing to herself under her breath as she usually did when she was upset.

Finally, Hermione got to where she wanted to be, outside of Hogwarts and into the streets of Hogsmeade. As a sixth year, and especially as a prefect, Hermione was granted weekend access to the wizarding town, and although she usually preferred to spend her time studying or curled up with a good book, she found that she needed the calming effect that the quaint town always had on her.

Finally slowing down, Hermione allowed her breath to slow down to its normal pace.

Just before, Ron had been complaining to Hermione yet again about Draco. Draco had been a spy for the good side for almost a full year now, as it was reaching the end of sixth year, and Hermione completely trusted him. Yet, Ron had to be a royal pain in the arse, always suspicious and snide. If Harry trusted Draco, if Harry was friends with Draco, wasn't that proof enough?

Deep down, however, Hermione knew what was bothering Ron. It was a feeling that would never fully leave him alone:

Jealousy.

Ever since they'd heard of the Order, Hermione, Ron, and Harry had been trying their hardest to get involved. This year, Dumbledore was finally beginning to let them in on easy missions, but Ron wasn't getting as much glory as Hermione or Harry. Hermione had her smarts, Harry his dueling skills and, well, he was the Harry Potter.

And so Ron was rather left alone in the dark as he had always been. Shadowed by his brothers and even his friends. And now, Ron was even shadowed by the man who used to be one of his arch nemesis; Draco Malfoy.

Oh yes, Draco was getting quite a bit of attention in the Order. And reformed bad-guy or not, that still didn't erase the tension between the two. Draco shamelessly flaunted his position and knowledge in front of Ron, watching as his face turned a lovely shade of beet red and his ears began to flame in passionate fury.

Even worse, for Ron at least, Draco and Harry seemed to be hitting it off very well, and were now the very best of friends. Perhaps it's true what people say—that the very deepest of hatred and strongest of love are only separated by a thin, weak line. Draco made no secret of his friendship with Harry in front of Ron. In the public eye, however, things hadn't changed a bit. Which was, of course, necessary to Draco's cover.

And worse. Yes, even worse than the friendship between Draco and Harry, were the clandestine going ons between Draco and Hermione that Ron was beginning to notice.

Draco…

Hermione smiled at the name, and the person whom she associated with it. Once Draco had joined the good side, they'd been stuck together for a lot of assignments. Researching, field work, fetching coffee, etc. And in those times together, Hermione began to see a new side of Draco. A Draco with feelings. A Draco with beautiful eyes, a wonderful body, and the sexiest smile in the history of smiles. A Draco whom she could love. A Draco who loved her back.

Yes, it was true. Hermione was deeply in love, and that love was most thankfully returned.

The two kept their feelings a secret from the public, of course, but they found every single possible moment to get together and just spend time with one another. Flirting, smiling, talking, laughing, hugging, touching, kissing…loving.

It was the best feeling Hermione had ever felt before, to be so strongly attracted to someone, and have that person like you back.

Hermione sighed and allowed a smile to rise up to her face.

Draco was the best thing that had happened to her, ever. He was sweet, caring, funny, witty, sarcastic, interesting, intelligent, not overly sappy…

Hermione let out a deep breath, and opened her eyes, which she didn't remember closing.

Where was she?

She seemed to be standing in a dark alley that she did not quite recognize. Fear began to take its place in her heart as she looked around the dark, decrepit alleyway, and tried to make sense of where she was.

Just as she was muttering to herself that she couldn't be too far from Hogsmeade, she was distracted from her thoughts.

A little child was running at her quickly, eyes wide with fear. As the child ran closer, Hermione realized that it was a little girl, about nine or ten years old. Her brown eyes were wide open in terror, and her thin legs were positively trembling with the effort that she put into running away from…well…what?

The girl was very dirty and terribly thin, and there was a rather dead, hollow look in her eyes. Her long brown hair was tangled and matted, and her clothes were shabby and torn.

It is, indeed, impossible to say exactly what transpired in the few seconds that brown eyes met frightened brown eyes, but Hermione had to shake herself out of a slight daze, after the girl had run by.

"You fucking bastard, I go away for five minutes and find you asleep, and the little wretch gone! How fucking retarded can you be?" Hermione's ears perked up and she immediately became alert, and fished around in her robe pocket for her wand. She found nothing and groaned inwardly, realizing that in her mad rush away from Ron, she'd left her wand on the table in the Gryffindor common room.

"I'm sorry, boss! I'm sorry! I'm tired, and you didn't let me get no sleep yesterday, and you's always making me watch the brats and I was tired and I made her promise to be good, and I didn't even know I fell asleep, stupid bitch must have used my wand to free the bindings and…"

"Stop wasting your breath and run faster!"

As 'Boss' finished exclaiming this, the two men finally came into view as they spotted Hermione and turned into the alley in which she stood, trembling slightly.

Were these people kidnappers? Oh, if only she hadn't forgotten her wand! Should she run away, should she try and fight and keep them at bay so the little child could run farther, should she…

"Hey, girlie, you seen a little girl, bout eleven or twelve running by heres? She got brown eyes and hair like yours," said the minion, whom Hermione inwardly named Fatty, as he was incredibly obese. He had come up tottering, breathless, behind Boss, several minutes after Boss stopped in front of Hermione and stood there taking in her appearance.

"No. I haven't seen any little girls," Hermione said firmly, although her feelings betrayed her slightly as her voice quivered a little towards the end of her proclamation.

"Oh, okays. Thank you anyways…"

"Shaddap. She's lying, you idiot. Can't you tell?" interjected Boss, staring hard at Hermione in a way that made her fidget. She suddenly wished that she had just run after the little girl.

"Oh…"

"Okay, girlie. We's gonna ask you one more time. Where'd the girl go?" asked Boss.

Hermione swallowed, and drew herself up to full height. "I have never seen this little girl you're talking about."

"WHERE'S THE GIRL, YOUS LITTLE…"

"Hey, hey, hey, buddy. Cut it out with the yelling. Can't you see you're scaring our little lady here?" said Boss suddenly in a very greasy way that reminded Hermione of the way that Peeves spoke to the Bloody Baron.

"But boss…"

"I SAID SHUT UP," Boss roared, which sufficiently stopped the yapping of Fatty. "Now, Miss Lady, why don't you take a look at this pretty stone I have right heres?"

Hermione was immediately suspicious when she saw the slow look of comprehension that was beginning to ripple over Fatty's face. She had the full intention of looking the other way and running, when she caught in the corner of her eye, the glimmer of a most miraculous stone.

Hermione couldn't help it, her eyes were immediately drawn to the beautiful stone held in Boss's hand. It was a deep black—well, no. Black didn't quite cover it. It was such a deep shade of black that other colours could sometimes be seen swirling inside of it, the darkest shade of pink imaginable, red, blue, green…

Hermione's eyes began to flutter.

"Stone of Murkiras, work your magic. Turn this girl back in age, four years."

As Boss muttered the mantra over and over again under his breath, the stone suddenly began to glow a whitish blue. The light spread over the transfixed Hermione, covering her entirely.

Fatty watched, his mouth watering excitedly, as the sixteen year old girl's profile in the blinding light slowly metamorphed; shorter, rounder, the breasts beginning to shrink into the chest, the nose becoming less pointed…

The light flashed very brightly one more time, before fading away.

"Oblivatiore, seianos," said Boss.

A twelve year old girl lay on the cold, wet ground. Boss had miscalculated her age; she was meant to be a ten year old whore, but Hermione had always been a bit more on the short side.

Still, he had erased six years of her life just to be on the safe side. And so she knew nothing of Hogwarts. She knew nothing of magic. She knew nothing but the muggle world, in which she had always felt so alone and such a stranger. She knew nothing of Harry, Ron, or Dumbledore. She knew nothing of Draco.

Boss laughed. "I knew this would come in handy. Good thing White Boss gave one to us, just in case."

"Yeah, this is perfect. Brown hair, brown eyes child whore, just like Bazto requested."

Draco sighed and checked his watch, simultaneously pulling his fingers through his blonde hair, although the action was more habit than anything else.

The fancy clock told him that it was about eleven forty, PM. The time was ripe.

Taking a deep breath, he glanced to the left and right, then entered the dark, musky building in front of him.

On the outside, the building seemed to be nothing more than an old warehouse. Draco knew better, however. He had felt the cheap magical enchantments from a mile away. On the inside however, it was a wild, raucous, disgusting place where perverted wizards traveled from far and wide for a cheap shag. There was a bar and a stage, on which a pair of twins was currently doing a strip-pole-dance, which they were apparently halfway through with.

Draco pushed his way through the sea of horny, rowdy men to the bartender, who was also the owner of this whorehouse. The bartender was a grubby, rather short man, with stubble all over his lower face. One of his eyes looked rather light blue in contrast to his brown one. He was half blind, no doubt, and also a slimy business man. How else could a person run such a business?

"How much for a one-nighter?" Draco asked the bartender casually.

The bartender took in Draco's quality traveling cloak and expensive watch in half a second.

"You's a rich'un. Why'd you come to a shabby joint like dis?" he asked suspiciously.

"Because these shabby joints are harder to track down, and I would rather avoid some people at the finer hotels. The watch I took from a dead man. I won't tell you how he died, but if you're wise, you'll tell me how much it costs for a one night stand," Draco said quite smoothly.

The bartender got the gist quite clearly.

"A galleon for a regular, and five, if you want the cream of my crop."

Draco kept the disgust skillfully off his face, and placed five golden galleons upon the bar.

The bartender quickly snatched them off, and inspected them closely, before nodding to Draco, getting a key, and leading him off to a back portion of the bar, where the pounding music was only slightly muffled. The dirty, decrepit hallway was lit by a few dim candles on rusty candleholders.

Ignoring the rooms from which extremely erotic noises were coming, the bartender led Draco to room 6, opened the door, and told Draco to wait inside.

Draco stepped inside the dirty room, which only had one dingy, uncomfortable looking bed, and a rickety, broken nightstand next to it. Draco shook his head, took off his cloak, and sat down on the bed, his fingers drumming on the bed in a bored fashion.

Within a manner of moments, the door opened again, and the bartender's ugly face appeared in the doorway. "Enjoy," he said, and stepped back.

A long, slender leg, halfway covered by stiletto black boots was the first thing he saw. Then, an extremely short black leather skirt, an extremely flat belly with a silver ring in the belly button, a short black leather halter top which pushed creamy breasts upwards rather alluringly, long, slender arms, a slender neck, and finally, a face that was heavily covered in eyeliner, mascara, rouge, lipstick, and a glittering bronze eyeshadow, framed by long, straight, auburn colored hair.

There was no doubt about it; this alluring young lady, who only looked about fifteen or so, was definitely the bartender's favorite.

Shutting the door behind her in the most seductive way possible, she stalked slowly up to Draco, making sure to move her body in a way that made his eyes follow her every movement.

She placed a manicured hand on his shoulder, and Draco's grey eyes were level with dark brown ones.

"Ooh, you're a good looking one," she cooed, leaning her face closer and closer.

"Stop," Draco said, gently pushing her away.

"Excuse me?" she said, looking rather offended.

Draco pulled out his wand, pointed at the door, and said, "Silencio."

"Ah, I see. Do we have a singer here? You like your privacy huh, sexy thing," she slurred, rubbing herself up against him and purring.

"No. Please, seat yourself," Draco said, disentangling himself from the girl's arms and legs, which had somehow snaked all around him.

"Oh, you'd like me to pleasure you sitting down, first? That's fine with me," she smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed and crossing her legs so that her tiny skirt hitched up another inch or so.

"No, I don't want you to pleasure me at all," Draco sighed. "Look, what's your name?"

The girl was obviously getting quite irritated by now. It was clear that she wanted to get things done and over with as soon as possible.

"Ah, a more intimate feeling you want, I see. My name is Mya. What would you like me to call you? Master? Darling? Sex—"

Draco cut her off with a sigh.

"Mya, I'm not here to have sex with you. My name is Draco Malfoy. You can call me Draco. I'm here to close down this illegal whorehouse."

(Semi-Mya POV)

Mya couldn't believe her ears. Did this guy think he was funny or something? This…Draco Malfoy? She snorted to herself. What kind of name was that? He must think she was some kind of stupid.

"Look, I don't know what you're up to, but you paid for a one-nighter with me, and…"

"Yes, I paid for a one-nighter with you, but only because I needed more evidence against this place. You know, now that Voldemort's has been defeated, whorehouses have been made illegal. It is my job to track them and close them down. In a few hours, you'll be set free. Let me just contact backup."

Mya watched in a state of disbelief as he picked up his wand and shot something silvery out of it, which flew away in a manner of moments.

"You're actually serious? You're not fucking around with me?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. I'm not… fucking around with you," Draco said, with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.

Only a man who had not been looking for a screw would have been able to endure Mya's seduction without even an erection. Mya checked, allowing him to see what she was doing. His pants remained without a bulge.

"You're really serious, huh," Mya said slowly to herself. Freedom. She would be out of this hell-hole that she'd been in for the past four years. But then what would she do? She knew she was a witch by the few instances of unintentional magic that had occurred, but even though she was in a wizard whorehouse, she had never had any opportunity to learn magic. Whores were to be seen, and not heard. To be screwed, and not educated.

Freedom, glorious freedom, would mean that she would belong to no man. That she would never have to go within the vicinity of a man ever again if she chose not to. Oh, the sex hadn't been too bad when the men were good looking, but that obviously wasn't the case. Old, fat, young, or ugly, she'd had to follow orders no matter what, or be starved for the next week of the meager scraps that were supposed to nourish her body.

She could learn if she wanted to. And she did want to. She wanted to learn how to be a witch. She wanted to be able to defend herself with powerful magic, if anyone even hinted at making her commit dirty sexual acts ever again.

She could finally leave the whorehouse, for she had been bound within its borders since she was twelve years old. She knew because the back-washed whores (which was the slang term for someone whose age had been turned back for the purpose of being a child whore) that were picked off streets always had two extra years obliterated from their memory. So that meant that right now she was sixteen.

One more year, and she would be a legal adult.

Until then, she would pursue an education, maybe get a real job, have a real life…

Her eyes were glazed over, her face a perfect personification of elation. Oh, if this Draco Malfoy was not lying, if she really was going to be free, life was going to be so much better. No more sex until her dying day if she wanted. She could live her own life, wonder across the world, do whatever she pleased…

And suddenly, she was seized with such a joy that she leaped up from the bed, and seized Draco Malfoy in a tight embrace.

"Thank you… thank you…" she gasped, as tears spilled from her eyes. "Please, please don't be lying, that would be too cruel… too cruel…"

Draco stood in shock for a moment, and then smiled. These were the rewarding moments of a job like this, which almost everyone else had shied away from. Draco knew that this girl had been through a lot, and unlike most other people in this world, he did not think of her as a dirty or inferior being. She was a woman, a female, a human being.

He gave her hair a gentle stroke.

"No, I'm not lying. You'll be free."

"Draco…"

At the sound of his name from her mouth, Draco suddenly stood bolt still, as if he'd been electrocuted. His hand stopped its comfortable path on her hair, as he slowly, slowly lowered his eyes to the top of this girl's head.

"Hermione?" he whispered, in a low, tremulous voice.

Mya backed away slightly and looked up at him, her expression incredulous, her face looking rather comical with eyeliner and mascara running down her face.

"How do you know my name?"

Hope you like it! Reviews are appreciated. )