J.K. Rowling's world, not mine

It was another late evening for Hermione when she finally arrived at her flat. Healer training wasn't easy, especially a Healer in training working for the Order. She had to learn to be prepared for the most obscure medical procedures imaginable. She tried to push the thoughts of healing spells and potions out of her head as she opened the door. Crookshanks was waiting on the other side to greet her. She scooped him up and kissed him hello. He always knew when she was having a rough day. With Crookshanks in her arms the tense feelings of late subsided and Hermione had not a care in the world.

"Oh Crookshanks, what a day. Harry and Ron had the nerve to make me go out for a drink after training! They wouldn't take no for an answer of course," she explained to the cat as she put him down and put some more food in his dish. Once Crookshanks was happily eating, Hermione prepared herself a cup of tea. She relaxed as she drank and then washed, dried, and put away her cup. She could never sleep knowing there was a dirty dish in her home, it was just one more thing to do in the morning. Yawning, Hermione made her way into her bedroom. She set her wand down in its proper place on her night stand; everything in Hermione's home had a specific spot where it belonged.

Her bedroom was perfectly "Hermione". It was very clean of course. Her bed was made first thing in the morning when she got out of it. Her clothes were hung perfectly in her wardrobe or folded neatly in a drawer. Her shoes were always in a neat line along the wall except for her slippers which resided on the right side of her bed. There were two large bookshelves completely filled. One contained her favorite muggle books, and the other was for her wizarding texts. In the corner of her room next to the large window was Hermione's favorite piece of furniture, a rocking chair. More specifically, her rocking chair from her childhood. As a little girl, Hermione would sit in her rocking chair in her nursery and read books. In fact, that was the very chair where she learned to read. Even now as an adult, Hermione would sit in her rocking chair in her room, basking in the sunlight with a cup of tea and a good book. Hermione looked at the chair longingly. Not tonight, she thought as she stifled another yawn. She was far too tired and instead took out her favorite pair of pajamas ("sweet dreams" flannel ones with cakes, cookies, and candy all over them) and made her way into her bathroom to get ready for bed.

Heading back into her room, Hermione closed the door as she had did every night. When she made her way to her bed however, she realized that her rocking chair had been moving. Hermione reached for her wand on the night stand but it wasn't there. Yes, something was wrong. She tried not to let the panic take over her but then somehow the curtains closed and she was engulfed in complete darkness and heard a click. Hermione knew that was sound of her door being locked from the inside of the room. She was not alone. She was not alone, and wandless. She was not alone, she was wandless, and it was completely dark. She was not alone, wandless, in the complete dark, and in her pajamas. She could feel someone else's presence but tried not to make a noise. Perhaps they'll just go away if I'm completely silent. Yes, they'll just go away. She wasn't convincing herself of course. Whoever was there was there for a reason, and those few seconds in the dark felt like a lifetime. Finally she heard a muttered, "Lumos" and the room was filled with light again. Still, Hermione did not move save for her body's involuntary trembling.

"Nice pajamas, Granger." She turned and saw Draco Malfoy sitting in her rocking chair. "Though I thought your kind were obsessed with health. Candy and cake on your sleep wear? I never would have thought."

"My kind meaning mudbloods?" she spat back at him.

"Your kind meaning dentists and their spawn, i.e. your parents and yourself."

At the mention of her parents, Hermione's face drained of all its color. "What do my parents have to do with anything? They aren't here."

"I know very well they aren't here, Granger. I'm here on a very special mission from the Dark Lord." She wouldn't let the fear overpower her. "The door and windows are locked, the room is sound proof, no way in or out. Too bad for you I've got your wand," He said as he twirled her wand in his hand.

She was now officially angry. Who the hell was he to come into her flat like that? Nothing is sacred in times of war, not even the sanctuary of one's home.

"If you're here to kill me then just do it already. Or are you still too cowardly? You couldn't bring yourself to kill Dumbledore," she spat at him.

"I want to tell you something very important, Granger," he got up from the rocker and moved closer to her, though she wouldn't budge. "No bastard ever won a war dying for his cause," he barely spoke above a whisper but she could hear him just fine. "He won it by making the other poor dumb bastard die for his cause. Your little noble act isn't going to help anyone." He stared at her with such intensity she needed to look away but didn't want to be the first to break eye contact. "I am here on strict orders from the Dark Lord. I'm to bring you back to him. He'll most likely torture you for information on your precious Order, which you and I both know you won't give him. When you refuse to give him information, you'll be starved, beaten, thrown in the dungeons in attempt to break you. Some of the Death Eaters will have their way with you, you may even be used as a bargaining chip." He was so close she could feel his breath on her but she still wouldn't move. He tucked a stray tendril behind her ear and smiled wryly at her. "You know Granger, you never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view, until you climb inside of his skin and walk around in it."

"Got some Polyjuice potion and a strand of my hair then?" She replied. He smiled and shook his head.

"I've been doing some thinking."

"That'd be a first," she scoffed.

"As I was saying," he continued, ignoring her comment, "I've been doing some thinking. I've decided that I'm not going back to the Death Eaters. Tomorrow morning when I don't show up with you they're going to do two things. They're going to track me down and kill me, and they'll come looking for you. I came here to warn you. You're not safe here."

Hermione was seething by now. She was no fool. "Look Malfoy, just get it over with. Kill me, kidnap me, don't play games."

"Granger, I'm not playing games. We're both in danger here but I can take care of myself. You need to get out of here as soon as you can." She said nothing in response. "You don't believe me it's understandable, but I'm telling the truth. They've been following you for days, you have quite a routine," she was shocked at the revelation. Had she really been followed? And how had she not known about it? He read her face and smirked, "Every morning you get up at 5:15, go for a jog until 6:00. You leave your house in the morning at 7:30 and walk to your Healer training. You wear sensible black shoes everyday good for walking. You have lunch with Ginny Weasely Monday and Wednesdays at the Leaky Cauldron. Tuesday, Thursday and Friday you prefer to have lunch at that muggle café where you sit at the same table near the front window and read a book. This past week you were reading The Portrait of a Lady by American muggle Henry James. Don't you find him a bit long-winded? I mean, the man goes on and on for pages on end and his writing style is so predictable. In my opinion you've read one Henry James you've read them all, but I digress. Anyway, you usually come back to your flat between 6:30 and 7:00 depending on how fast you walk and if you stop to get something to eat on the way. And then you're in for the night. Sound about right?"

He had that trademark smirk on his face. So she had been followed, nay, shadowed for who knows how long?

"Why the sudden change of heart, Malfoy?"

"Not so sudden, Granger, but this isn't the kind of life I wanted. I'm a Malfoy. My father may worship the ground the Dark Lord walks on, but I bow to no one. And this just so happens to be my opportunity to get out."

"Give me my wand back then. You mean me no harm."

"You're right, I don't. Here take it," he said and tossed it to her. "If I wanted to hurt you I would have done it already," he said as a matter of factly. "Feel better now that you have your wand?"

She held it up to him as if to protect herself but he just rolled his eyes at her and headed over to her window. He peaked through as if looking for something. "Come here, Granger." She didn't know why, but she went to him. "Look over there across the street." She focused her eyes on something moving but couldn't quite make it out. "He's a Death Eater. My back up in case you give me any problems."

"You're serious aren't you?" she whispered.

"Yes, Granger. Do you believe me now?" She nodded silently, her eyes on the figure in black across the way. Tears started to fall as she realized what she had to do. He saw her crying, unsure of what to do and just patted her on the back awkwardly. She was grateful for his gesture.

"I'm sorry, I'm just,"

"Never apologize and never explain," he interrupted, "it's a sign of weakness." He smiled and handed her a handkerchief with a monogrammed "M" on it.

"What do I do?"

"Pack a bag and get out of here. Take what you need, leave no trace behind. Go somewhere safe, somewhere they won't find you. They have no clue where the Order is, you'll be safe there. They've been looking for that damn place for months and months." She went into her wardrobe and took out her trunk and began throwing things haphazardly into it. She had no time for organization, though it killed her inside that her clothes weren't in their proper order. Malfoy was still there keeping an eye on the Death Eater across the street. He looked over at her as she opened her mouth. Cutting her off before she could get a word out he told her, "Your parents are fine. The Death Eaters don't know where they are but just to be safe cut off contact with them for a few days. The less they know the better." She was relieved. Her parents had nothing to do with this stupid war.

"What about you?" she asked him.

"Me? I'll be fine. I'll travel by night, wear black, I've got the stealth thing down. I have plenty of money to live on for a while. Who knows maybe your precious Potter will win this thing soon and I'll just go to Azkaban for a few years," he joked.

"You could come with me. Be a spy for the Order."

"Absolutely not, Granger. I'm out of this thing completely. I want no further part in it."

"But why!"

"Because I said so, that's why. I certainly don't have to justify myself to you. I came here to warn you, I've done that. What did you expect? You thought I'd turn around completely, and become one of the good guys? It's not going to happen. You see this?" he pulled up his sleeve to reveal his mark. "This is supposed to be for life. You don't just decide one day that you want out. If I turned good spy all of a sudden, I'd put your Order in more danger. No, I stay out of it. Either Potter wins and we're all safe and running barefoot in a field of dew covered clover, or the Dark Lord wins and you and I both die."

"Fine, be that way," she said and stormed out of the room. She came back moments later with Crookshanks in a carrier. "What's going to happen when they find my flat empty?"

"They'll either reckon I spirited you away or I failed my mission. Either way we'll both be in danger. Are you ready to go?" She nodded and shrunk her trunk to fit in her pocket.

"Do you think I'll ever be able to come back here?"

"I doubt it. They'll probably destroy th–ah, dammit!" He keeled over and grasped his arm in pain as she rushed to his side. "Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in."

"What's going on? You're being called aren't you?"

"Yes Granger, you need to get out of here right now. They're coming."

"Draco I," she was searching for the words but for once they weren't coming to her. She let out a stray tear. He tucked away that stubborn stray tendril behind her ear again as he bent down and kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

"You're welcome. Now go on." She looked at him one last time and then she was gone.

Days later Hermione was tucked safely away in her room at Grimmauld Place. The reports of Death Eaters storming her flat was all the buzz in the Daily Prophet. Her home was destroyed; nothing was left of it except for her memories. Hermione's eyes were fixated on a different article though. Death Eater Draco Malfoy Dead. She didn't know what to do with herself. The other residents of Grimmauld Place knew that she just needed to be alone and gave her her space for a while.

Hermione sat on her bed with Crookshanks sleeping in her lap when an owl flew into her window. Much to his irritation, Crookshanks was scooted off her lap as Hermione got up to collect her letter from the owl.

Dear Hermione,

They said in the papers that I'm dead. Can you imagine that? Like it'd be so easy to kill Draco Malfoy? I think not. I can't tell you where I am or where I'm going. I'm not so sure myself actually. And I don't really know why I'm writing to you, but I felt like I had to. That probably doesn't make much sense but there it is. You're the only one who knows I'm alive, I know I can trust you. Do us all a favor and tell Potter to win this damn war already. Who knows, maybe I'll see you in your pajamas again someday, Granger.

Stay safe,

Draco

P.S. I am leaving my owl, Iris, in your care.

She stroked the owl tenderly. "Iris, he's okay." The owl looked at her and hooted in response. Hermione smiled for the first time in days and tucked the letter away into a box that held his monogrammed "M" handkerchief and placed it in back in the drawer. She decided she would wait a while until she would send Iris out with a reply to Draco.