Disclaimer: Don't own them...just the plot.

A/N: Wow, ok so this is my first fanfic and I'm slightly nervous but any pointers you might have are greatly appreciated. I'm sure I can take it...and if not...hell, there is always therapy.

By the way this does not follow HBP

Hermione Granger leaned shakily against the tiled walls of her bathroom. She clutched the worn note in her hand so hard that her knuckles had began to turn a sickly white. Angry tears slid down her pale cheeks as she looked the note over again and again. The words scribbled across the page screamed terrible truths of blame and guilt, and no matter how much she wanted the words that were written on the paper to disappear, they never did. her eyes scanned the shaky handwriting of Mrs. Weasley for the fifteenth time.

Hermione,

I'm sorry I have to rush but I must make this quick...they are coming here but only because they think that we have you hidden here. They are after you because they believe that you are a threat to them and you are Harry Potter's best friend so they need to get rid of you. I have sent Ron, Ginny and the twins away to hide because they are not safe either. Harry refuses to go with them. He insists on staying to fight and he wont be persuaded otherwise...we will try to hold them off. I love you dear. Please stay safe.

Sincerely,

Molly Weasley

"Oh God..." Hermione let out a strangled sob as she looked at the other piece of paper that she held in her opposite hand. It was the front page of the Daily Prophet.

Four people were found dead from a Death Eater attack in the home of Author Weasley. Mr. Weasley, his wife (Molly Weasley) and their two sons, (Bill and Charlie Weasley) were found murdered. The only survivor seemed to be Harry Potter but unfortunately Mr. Potter was found in a state of insanity. He is currently being held at St.-

She let the paper slip from hands and she watched as the parchment and her life spiraled to the ground. She felt sick. They, those fucking sick bastards, had been after her and she had gotten her friends...her family, killed. She looked across the room into the mirror that was nailed to the opposite wall. She stared at her reflection and saw nothing but a pale, overly skinny girl with bushy wild honey brown hair and tear swollen chocolate eyes. She didn't see a threat. There was nothing special about her...nothing to want... and yet four people were now dead...she should have taken their place.

she slid down the wall till she was sprawled out on the cold floor. The tears spilled from her eyes in a wave of sickness until she had no energy left to cry. She felt lost, useless, but most of all...damned. As she turned to push herself up something from across the room caught her eye, something that sparkled in the dull light of the bathroom, and beckoned to her. It was a light pink raiser laying on the bathroom sink. she stood up slowly, walked over to it and picked it up gingerly as if it were something fragile that might break. she stared at the object for what seemed like centuries, thoughts bubbling in her head. Maybe she could just...

she touched the blade lightly to her arm and pressed. She felt a small prick of pain and pulled the blade away revealing a small cut on her arm. her hands started to shake as she lowered the blade again, what the hell are you doing? That bloody familiar nagging voice screamed in her head and as usual it won the argument so just before she reached her skin she let it drop from her hands. It fell to the floor with a soft, deafening clunk.

"Bloody hell..." she wasn't even brave enough to kill herself.

Draco Malfoy never cried. He never let out a whimper of pain and he never begged for mercy. Or at least he hadn't since he was five when his mother had been killed by his father. What? Did you think that whore Narcissa was his mother?. Oh no, that bitch would never be his mother...

( FLASHBACK)

"I love you my beautiful little dragon...don't ever forget that mommy loves you." Draco held his mothers long delicate fingers in his own stubby ones as she brought them to her lips to kiss the back of his hand. As she pulled away he noticed a trail of blood that now trickled down his hand that had been left from her lips.

"Mother, what is happening? What is wrong?" Draco begged. He began to feel the sharp sting of tears at the corner of his eyes as he noticed his mothers eyes start to unfocus. "Mother...mommy..." he buried his face in her chest and she weakly wrapped her arms around his small frame.

"Hush little baby don't-you-cry" His mothers words became soft and strained and suddenly Draco was being pulled to his feet to face the cold eyes of his father.

"That's right...don't you cry, baby." Lucius spat the word as if it wasn't even good enough to slither off his tongue. "Don't you ever cry, because do you know what crying is?" Draco did not answer and by doing so he received a slap that sent him sprawled across the expensive marble floor. "Crying is weakness...impure...disgusting...weakness, and no son of mine will ever cry. So straighten up you little asshole and forget the bitch lying on the ground at your feet because that's all she ever was...someone to be at our feet...or below them." And with that his father sent a swift kick into the face of the only woman Draco had ever loved.

(END FLASHBACK)

Draco had never let a tear fall from his eyes since then.He leaned against the wall for support as his father laughed at him. He could feel blood on the side of his face from where his father had slammed his head against the wall. Before Draco could gain full composer his fathers fist connected with his jaw. Lucius never used spells on him. He said Draco was to good for that. He always used his fists.

"Do you want me to stop Draco? Ask me to stop Draco." His father was asking him to beg...he would rather die. He merely returned his fathers icy glare. Lucius punched him again causing him to fall to the ground where he then proceeded to kick him hard in the ribs. He tried to scramble to his feet but Lucius grabbed him by his hair and put a blade from seemingly out of no where up against his throat. "You are one bold little shit, you know that right?" He applied a little pressure to the knife causing blood to run down Draco's pale skin. "Now are you ready to, listen?"

Draco laughed softly, a cold sarcastic laugh. " Of course, father. I always listen to what you have to say."

Lucius released him and stood. Draco crawled over to the wall to lean against it.

"Now as you know there was an attack on those dreadful Weasleys, correct?"

"Yes, and I do believe we came out victorious in it." Draco said in a monotone voice.

" That is true but they had not expected Harry Potter to be there instead of the mudblood. Our lord is greatly upset that one of his Death Eaters has turned Harry Potter out of his mind when it was clear that he wanted the little fuck for himself...but trust me the man who did it is no longer with us." Lucius said with a malicious grin. He expected Draco to cringe at this but the seventeen year old boy merely shrugged.

"what does this have to do with me?"

His fathers face screwed up in anger but he didn't move. "What it means is that our lord has a little assignment for you...he wants you to kill the mudblood."

"Granger?"

"Oh, we do catch on quick. he says that it's time that you proved your worth. He says that there is something special about this girl and she needs to be eliminated and he thinks that you are the right person for the job."

"And when am I supposed to accomplish this father?"

"At school of course. You have been selected head boy and the girl is head girl so you will be sharing a common room together. That's a perfect opportunity to do the job."

"Are you crazy? I can not kill her at school! That's fucking suicide!" Lucius' eyes narrowed dangerously and her grabbed his son roughly by the hair turning his face up to face his, and their eyes connected. Grey upon Grey.

"You will find a way to kill her or I will Personally kill you." With that Lucius left Draco sitting alone. He touched the side of his head and saw the blood that stained his fingers tips. He smirked slightly. it was cold...like everything else about him. He ran his hands through his white blonde hair in frustration. he was prepared to serve his lord...but kill? He had never murdered anyone before and he didn't really want to start. He stared down at his lean body imaging himself plunging a knife through his chest. He imagined himself taking a human life, whether it was his own or not. he couldn't phasm the idea. He felt an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to do this...how could he do this? But he had to serve his lord. He had to prove his worth. It was up to him. It was his assignment. He slammed his head against the wall and let out a cry of anger.

By Gods may he be damned...he would do it.

A/N: Ok it was short but I just wanted to see what everyone thought of it before I jump into it head on, ok?