AN: So why can't Voldemort just call off the dementors and get Lucius himself? Because it's too damn easy. And plus, Voldemort has to build up his little follower into a warrior. (We all know Malfoy is a bit of a coward. Don't deny it!) Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to princessdza and jjp91 for bringing up good points.

The reason I didn't update was because my internet was disconnected during the weekend. I'm going to probably update only on the weekends because of school. Sorry.

Disclaimer: I think I forgot to put this in the last few chapters. Oops. Well, you know the deal. I don't own anything. This chapter contains s-bombs and f-bombs, but not too many.

Complaining: I hate that we can't use songs. Urgh. This is going to make later chapters harder…..

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"That was much better," Hermione praised. "What memory did you choose?"

Draco turned pink again. "The day we went to the carnival."

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Hermione was taken aback at this revelation. That memory had improved his Patronus? The day she had dragged him to a muggle event where he had encountered his fear of heights/falling and where he had thrown up? Surely he had happier moments in his life than that… She voiced her disbelief with the statement, "You must be either ill, delirious, or lying."

Draco's embarrassment turned to anger. Here he was, being nice, and telling the truth for once and Granger called him a liar. "Do you think I really wanted that memory to work, Granger? Don't you think it would have been easier for me to lie and say I thought about Voldemort killing each and every one of you annoying little Gryffindors?"

"Well, sorry," Hermione said a bit roughly. "It's not like you to admit that spending time with 'blood-traitors' or—" Hermione hesitated, but then continued, "—mudbloods was a happy moment for you."

Draco stared at Hermione. "You make no sense. First you ask that I be nice, so I tell you the truth, and then you disregard it. It's not like I'm not having a hard time keeping with the damn agreement. You're not even following it sometimes. And as for acting unlike myself, who are you to talk? You, who follow the rulebook religiously, are helping a Slytherin (A Slytherin!) perform illegal underage magic. If that's not completely unlike you, then I'll send my house elves on a month-long vacation."

"Well forgive me for trying to help out—"

"You didn't seem to appreciate me trying to help out by telling the truth," Malfoy interrupted.

Hermione continued with rising frustration, "—I could have told Ginny that you stole her wand, but instead I chose to help you with an extremely difficult charm."

"I DIDN'T STEAL IT! She lent it to me. I swear, you talk about me being prejudiced, but you are equally so. You don't care that Ginny has her brothers' wands and that she's using magic illegally to hex me, but I'm trying to learn something useful here, and you think I'm up to no good." Draco ignored the fact that he was up to no good.

Hermione realized he was making a good point. The same way he categorized anyone less than pureblooded as beneath him, she had categorized him as an evil Slytherin without thinking. To be honest, he had been nasty to her in the past, but right here, right now, he hadn't done anything wrong by her.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Draco. You're right."

He had been ready for her to curse at him or physically attack him, but instead she had apologized. For that he had been totally unprepared. How was he supposed to receive an apology from one of his enemies? His father would have told him to either ignore it or accept it with a biting remark. He did neither.

"Thank you, Granger."

Hermione was as surprised by this remark as Draco had been by her apology. "You're welcome."

After a minute or so of silence, Hermione finally spoke again. "So you don't have any other suitable memories that might work? Your Patronus is still a bit weak."

"Not that I can think of."

"What about you and Pansy Parkinson? I'm sure you have some, er, good memories of her."

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Are you kidding? Pansy is such a cow. I only put up with her because it keeps all the other girls away. She acts all lovey-dovey, but it bugs the hell out of me. She's an idiot—no brain at all. Our conversations go like this:

" 'Draco,' " Draco said in a falsetto. " 'You were so good in quidditch today,'

'I lost.'

'So, I still think you're wonderful.'

'I hate you.'

'Silly, I know you love me. You're just testing my affections.' Muah."

"Erm, alright then. So no memories at all? What kind of childhood did you have?"

Draco glared. "None of your business."

At that moment, Ginny walked through the door. "Your hour is up." Ginny noticed Hermione. "I thought I told you not to let anyone see."

"Well, she just walked in on me. She knew anyway, so it's not like it matters. She even accused me of stealing it."

Ginny stared blankly at Draco. "Right." Then she took the wand and left. Hermione followed.

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The week passed by almost uneventfully. Draco continued to rent the wand from Ginny, and failed miserably in trying to improve his Patronus. The only reason the week was almost uneventful was because Draco received a howler.

A tawny owl with yellow eyes flew in the window carrying a red envelope at lunchtime near the end of the week. The owl landed on the table next to Draco, and he reluctantly took the envelope and opened it.

"HOW DARE YOU NOT WRITE TO ME? YOU PROMISED ME, DRACO! I WAITED BY THAT WINDOW FOR DAYS." Pansy Parkinson's voice faltered. "YOU DON'T LOVE ME ANYMORE! I DIDN'T THINK YOU MEANT IT ALL THOSE TIMES, BUT YOU DID, DIDN'T YOU?" Now she sounded as though she was about to cry. "OH, DRAKIE-KINS, MY LITTLE BUMBLE-BEAR, PLEASE WRITE TO ME. I MISS YOU EVER-SO MUCH. YOU'RE ALWAYS SPENDING TIME WITH—WITH, (sniffle) WELL, YOU KNOW WHO. WHY DON'T YOU VISIT ME? YOU HAD BETTER WRITE TO ME NOW, BECAUSE I'VE ORDERED CALYPSO TO PECK YOU UNTIL YOU DO. LOVE, YOUR DARLING PANSY-POO."

After the howler had finished, everyone looked at Draco, who was turning redder by the second. Part of it was from embarrassment, and part was from rage. Draco's thoughts wandered from 'Shit. She called me bumble-bear in from of my worst enemies,' to 'Pansy must die.'

Everyone at the table had smiles of amusement and curiosity except Hermione, whose brow was furrowed in deep thought. She wondered if Pansy had been referring to another girl or Voldemort when she had said "you know who." While both were plausible, she worried that Pansy had meant the latter. Harry and Ron had always accused Draco of being a Death Eater, but she hadn't really believed it. She always considered him too much of a coward to actually join up with Voldemort. But now something was nagging at her mind saying that something was not quite cricket with Draco. She felt as she often did when faced with a particularly difficult homework question. She had a feeling that she knew the answer, and that somewhere was the evidence to support her answer, but she couldn't quite find it. She resolved to keep a close eye on Draco in the future.

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"Expecto Patronum!"

Draco had, for what seemed like the millionth time, produced a less-than-satisfactory Patronus. It had already been a full week since Draco had received his instructions from Voldemort, and the quality of his Patronus had plateaued. Frustrated, he decided to ask Hermione for help, as much as it pained him to be asking a mudblood for help.

Hermione agreed to help him, but they didn't make any more progress. However, Draco noticed that she kept on giving him a funny look, and she stared at his arm repeatedly. He naturally thought it was weird, but didn't really think anything of it.

Hermione, on the other hand, kept noticing things that should have been obvious to her. Firstly, Draco had been wearing a wristband on his arm all summer. Those weren't exactly in style. Secondly, she knew Draco was perfectly capable of using the Floo network, so why had he "gotten lost"? Thirdly, he was trying to learn the Patronus Charm for apparently no reason. The charm was a protection against dementors, and they were all at Azkaban. Lucius was in Azkaban. These seemed like completely unrelated pieces of information, but they all seemed to be connected. Hermione kept telling herself that Draco couldn't have been hiding the dark mark under his sleeve, that everybody made mistakes once in a while, and that maybe Draco just shared her thirst for knowledge and just wanted to know how to produce a Patronus in case it turned up on their Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.

Even though Hermione had tried to convince herself that Draco was not a Death Eater, she found herself outside his room at midnight, trying to discern whether or not he was asleep or not. When she was satisfied that he was unconscious, she opened the door a crack. She listened for the steady breathing, and then stepped into the room. Slowly creeping over to where he slept, she managed to free his right arm from the covers. She rolled up his sleeve, but found nothing but pale, milky skin. No dark mark. She reached over to his left arm, but before she could lift the sleeve, Draco began to stir.

Panicked, she let go of the arm and turned to leave, but Draco was now awake.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" he said a bit groggily.

Hermione, out of desperation, did the only thing she could think of. She kissed him.

Draco's eyes widened. "What the fuck?"

Hermione scrambled to give him an alibi for why she was in his room at that hour. "Draco, I don't know how to tell you this, but I like you." She struggled not to give in to her gag reflex.

Draco stared disbelievingly. "Taken too many tipsy toffees, haven't we?"

Hermione started to become nervous. He didn't believe her. While under normal circumstances that would have been desirable, right now she really needed him to believe that was why she was in his room. "You don't believe me?" she asked in what she hoped was a disappointed tone.

"You're serious?"

"Of course."

"Granger," Draco began, talking to her as if she was a small child. "I know I'm a sexy beast, but I am a pureblooded sexy beast, and you're just a mudblood beast. I do not have feelings for you, and never will. So go to bed."

She readily accepted the invitation to leave. Once she had scrambled out of the room, Draco smirked. "Granger can be pretty dense for being such a know-it-all, but at least she has good taste."

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. AN: So I lied. He didn't go to Azkaban. But he does next chapter, I SWEAR on the life of "drakie-kins/bumble-bear." I have it planned out, but I just have to write it. and write it WELL. Please review.