Author's Note: Well first, apologies that this took so long! Real life got in the way and all that, and a small case of writer's block had to rear its ugly head. But after several tries, I rather like this end result, and it's gone even darker than I'd originally intended. I hope you like the story I've given for Malfoy's turning—and yes, you finally find out! Please remember though that this is not compatible with HBP! The pace is going to pick up from here in, and there is lots of intense Draco/Hermione interaction to look forward to! Thanks to kertzygirl, sweet.sonata, IrethMalfoy, superelle, samhaincat, .Smart.Ass.Punk, and SwayPippin for reviewing, and I really hope you enjoy this!

Chapter Five

Avoiding Granger had become Draco's new project.

Not, of course, that he hadn't been avoiding her before. But she'd presented him with something he still didn't understand, and so he treated her as he did all things he didn't understand. When he'd see her approaching, he'd quickly turn about and go in the opposite direction, even if it took him completely out of his way. If the only chair left at the Staff Table was beside her, the solution was simple—he wouldn't eat.

This had been going on for days now, but the whole thing was starting to make him angry, and his classes took the brunt of his ire. He took points off everyone for reasons that ranged from breathing too loudly to serious disasters and made several students cry. By the end of the week, all the younger students were afraid of him and the older ones treated him with…well he wasn't sure what they treated him with. It wasn't really respect, but more liked awed wariness, for it was more the sixth and seventh years who knew what he'd done in the War.

So, by the end of the week, the point counters were severely diminished for every House, and as Draco took his place at the Head Table for breakfast sandwiched between Lupin and Longbottom, they quickly accosted him about them.

"Is it really necessary for you to take your bad moods out on the students?" Lupin pressed, ever the Patiently Reasonable One. It was enough to make Draco want to throw up, and if he'd been thinking passed Granger, he would've realized that she'd made him feel more in the past week than he had in Merlin knew how long. "I don't know what's caused the snit you're in, but everyone's been talking about it, even the castle ghosts."

"I heard you even took five points off the Lancaster girl because she hiccupped in class," Longbottom pointed out, as if Draco even needed the reminder. It had been a reasonable deduction, he thought to himself, for the sound could have startled someone and caused them to put the wrong ingredient in a potion.

"Just living up to old Snape's memory," Draco remarked, words touched by a sneer, and reached for the Daily Prophet his owl had just dropped off, hoping they'd get the hint and leave him alone.

The headline that blazed up at him from the front page, though, made him forget everyone else in the room.

Bellatrix Lestrange Sighted Near Hogsmeade

Infamous Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange was sighted near Hogsmeade just a few days ago…

All he could do was stare, feeling the walls of the Great Hall start to close in on him, his breath starting to come a little too quickly. That filthy bitch. She was the most dangerous Death Eater still alive, and had been the eager ringleader of most of his torture. It felt as though his heart had turned into a rock and had fallen out of his stomach and onto the floor.

The crazy lunatic was looking for him, of that he had no doubt. He was Unfinished Business, after all, and Bellatrix never liked leaving loose ends. Well, neither did Draco, and he had half a mind to leave right now and hunt her down himself. He was so caught up in his thoughts that it took him a few moments to notice that Lupin was trying to start another conversation with him.

"…knows better than to approach Hogwarts alone," Lupin finished, and Draco couldn't bear the thought of sitting next to him for one minute more even though he hadn't even really touched his food.

"Just sod off, Lupin," Draco spat, not willing to waste an intelligent insult on Lupin as he set down the paper and stood up swiftly, back taught with thinly controlled emotion. Did the wolf really not see that was exactly what the mad woman was aiming to do? But, Draco remembered, he had been a Gryffindor, and they were known for their empty, meaningless everything will be all right platitudes. It was disgusting, really, that they felt the need to erect a wall of naivety to protect themselves from the harsh truths of bitter reality.

Lupin pursed his lips tightly, radiating disapproval, but Draco ignored him as he walked passed the row of staff and left by the side door, resolutely ignoring all the hushed whispering.

Once he was a good distance away, he paused to lean against a wall and allowed himself a moment of weakness as he lowered his head into his hands, which had gone cold and clammy.

"Malfoy?"

Bloody fucking hell!

Of course he should've known she would follow him out here, probably saw the headline before he did and was waiting for some kind of reaction, and had been staring at him all during breakfast.

"For Merlin's sake, what do you want?" he demanded, straightening up and turning to face Granger as she approached him.

"It's the headline, isn't it Malfoy?" she questioned, eyes not quite meeting his.

He felt inexplicably angry at her persistence, and snapped irritably, "No, Granger, the porridge made my stomach feel a little funny. Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"You already are alone," she pointed out, and he glowered at her, not needing her to state the obvious. "Yet you continue to push people away even though they're as far away as they could possibly be."

He turned to go, not in the mood to hear this, when she called after him, "Why, Malfoy? If we bother you so much, why did you ever turn away from Voldemort?"

Draco couldn't help it—he flinched.

"You Gryffindors think you're being so brave, when you say his name," he snarled, spinning around and crossing the distance between them until he was looking directly into her eyes, the air around them practically crackling with the tension. "But you really know nothing about it, nothing about what it means…" He trailed off, not really wanting to think about it. He'd lived it.

He had to give her credit, though. She wasn't turning away from him, although he could feel that she wanted to. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, or maybe it was more of that famed Gryffindor courage that Slytherins liked to call stupidity.

"I don't know why you keep asking me this question. What do you want to hear? That I turned because it was the right, moral thing to do?" he demanded, spitting out moral quickly as though it were some kind of Highly Contagious Disease.

"No, Malfoy," she whispered, "I want the truth."

"The truth," Draco snorted, "You can't handle the truth."

She only tilted her head up higher, throwing her bushy brown hair defiantly over her shoulders. "Try me."

While a part of him wanted to tell her every bloody, gory detail out of pure spite, the other was putting its foot down. Despite everything that Granger had seen and done in the War, there was a part of her that was still innocent, still untouched by the true horrors that went beneath the dead corpses, and, as hard as it was to perform, even Avada Kedavra's. The things he had done, the things he had been made to do…she wouldn't even begin to be able to comprehend that sort of world.

The memories were unfolding before him now, unstoppable, and while his brain was trying to find something to put together to say to her, he found himself being transported back into the past…

The ship sank the night Lucius Malfoy had broken out of Azkaban prison, near the end of Draco's sixth year.

Like the rest of the Death Eaters, Lucius was summoned right to the Dark Lord's side for a meeting, and Draco was a little anxious to see his father again.

They had a complicated relationship, and while it was not what one would call loving, because a true Slytherin did not believe in that sort of frivolity, it was certainly symbiotic—they both used the other freely, and while at times Draco resented his father's interference in practically everything he did, he knew it was necessary. He would have never gotten as far as he did in school without the fear his father's influence bought, simply because he was Malfoy.

Still, despite everything, he knew there was a part of him that continually disappointed his father. He was clever and cunning, but his grades were never good enough. He flew well enough, which was good until he went against Potter. In his young, blind eyes, his father was god and could do no wrong—his mother had been practically invisible, but the woman was still his mother, still bound to him by blood—and Draco was willing to do anything to make himself feel worthy, so he became a Death Eater.

It had been then, at his first meeting, that he'd first begun to have doubts, when he saw his father kneeling—proud Lucius actually kneeling—and kissing the ground of some half-blood who couldn't even kill one teenage boy, his father, who bent for no man, because that was weakness and Malfoys abhorred weakness above all else.

But he was in, and at first it hadn't been bad at all. If only he'd known that the Dark Lord was buying his time, waiting for his chance to test Draco's loyalty…

Yet even if he'd possessed some inkling of the Dark Lord's designs, he'd never have been able to guess what he had in mind.

"Luciussssssss," the Dark Lord purred as Draco saw his father perform the traditional prostration, "I would have thought that you'd been clever enough to figure out some way to get out of prison on your own, although I should've known that, since you were dumb enough to get yourself captured in the first place, you would have bided your time and waited for me."

Uh-oh.

Draco didn't like the sound of the Dark Lord's voice, and knew it could only mean that Something Bad was about to happen. He supposed he would never know exactly how the Death Eaters had managed to get his father out, but he knew that the Dark Lord had only invested the trouble in that plan because Lucius was a necessary player in the Cause. That didn't mean, however, that his earlier carelessness was going to go unpunished, and Draco had an increasing feeling that it wasn't going to be a simple round of Crucio. Oh no… it was going to be something much more painful, something much more personal than that…

"I admit in the end that was probably the wisest course of action for you, but your sloppiness will not go unpunished." Lucius raised his head, slowly, carefully, trying to figure out the Dark Lord's mind like everyone else. Draco wondered if anyone even knew what was going to happen, and he found himself suddenly wishing for the warmth of his bed in Slytherin House.

"Have you had time to greet your son yet, Luciussss?" the Dark Lord said suddenly, smiling terribly, and Draco felt his blood go cold. The Dark Lord obviously had more in mind than the average pleasantries—but what? "He was initiated early as planned, even though you were still in prison. But whether or not he actually has some spine still needs to be tested—I rather fear he is all talk, but time shall reveal all. Come here, boy, and quickly."

Draco felt all eyes snap to him, and as he observed his father carefully climb to his feet, he broke out of the secure anonymity of the circle and walked as confidently as he could to meet them in the center.

"M'lord," he muttered, keeping his voice low to hide its shaking, and bowed down deeply, doing his best to avoid eye contact with his father. He hated not being in control, not knowing what was approaching, and he hated his father for putting him in this position.

"I believe," the Dark Lord went on, clearly enjoying himself, the sadistic bastard, "that there is someone else I have summoned to us just for tonight, whom I believe you both know very well…come forward, Narcissa, if you will…"

Fuck.

What the bloody hell was his mother doing here? Despite father's associations, mother had never joined become a Death Eater, and while she supported the Cause, she clearly was not made out for this sort of thing, and the Dark Lord had decided that she would be much better off going to parties and the like and picking up information that way. After all these years, Draco still didn't know how he felt about his mother. He felt certain that she loved him, but from a distance, as though she couldn't afford to let herself get too close to him because he was just a pawn in this power struggle of his father's, and if he outlived his usefulness, well…

Narcissa, cold and beautiful as a statue, stood as removed as ever, although he thought he could detect a hint of sadness in her eyes. But then he blinked, and it was gone, if it had even been there at all.

"I believe this will be a suitable punishment for you, Luciussssss," the Dark Lord said, voice a dangerous hiss, and then, before Draco even had time to think about what was going to happen, the Dark Lord suddenly turned to him and commanded, "Kill her, boy."

A silence thick as fog descended on the group. No one dared to speak or breathe too loudly, and Draco thought he was going to choke on the tension.

And what was worse, he couldn't seem to wrap his mind around the order he had just been given.

While it was true that Narcissa was too cold to raise a child and had rarely been at home, she was still his mother. Yes, he'd pledged in the vow that he'd do anything to serve the Dark Lord…but he'd never counted on something like this!

He stared at his mother, and she stared back at him, her face betraying nothing of her feelings. He could feel the eyes of his father pinned on his back, willing Draco to leave what was left of his heart out of the equation to raise himself in the Dark Lord's esteem and to put Lucius back in the Dark Lord's favor.

It would've been too easy to ask Lucius to murder his own wife, because Lucius had sold his soul to the Dark Lord a long time ago. Yet Narcissa was his wife, and the Dark Lord found it oddly satisfying to have Lucius watch his son's weak heart in action...it would be punishment enough to the man to see that his son was not nearly as ruthless as he made himself out to be, that, despite appearances, Draco didn't have the required strength that Lucius had always boasted of…

"No."

Draco stood defiantly, hearing his father growl wordlessly behind him, staring at his mother's impassive face, searching for some kind of affection, for just a small amount of proof that would show him she had truly loved him, if only a little.

"I believe you misunderstood me, young Malfoy," the Dark Lord sneered, the terrible smile growing even wider as his predictions came true, "that was not a request."

Draco continued to stand, arms folded across his chest, as numbness proceeded to descend upon him like a blanket. The Dark Lord could do whatever he liked to him, and while people could accuse him of many things, no one would ever be able to accuse Draco Malfoy of matricide…

"Ah well, that leaves me no choice really, but everyone learns the cost of disobedience at some point," said the Dark Lord, the sneer that spread across his face twisting the smile into a truly grotesque expression.

He should have seen it coming, but even if he had, there would have been nothing he would've been able to do about it. He braced himself.

And then—

"Imperio."

His wand arm moved of its own free will, and no matter how hard he tried to resist, it was no use. Filled with the Dark Lord's power, the burst of green light just about blinded him, and he was breathing heavily when the Unforgiveable was released, doing his best not to retch as his eyes were forcibly drawn to his mother's now very dead body.

As the haze lifted, he was dimly aware of the Dark Lord as he said, "We'll make a proper Death Eater out of you yet…"

"Malfoy?"

He blinked, shook his head, and refocused his eyes on Granger, having been so lost in the past that he'd completely forgotten the present. But he remembered her question.

And, after another pregnant pause, he finally settled on, "Revenge."

Someday, maybe, he would tell her. Yet for right now, it was as much of the truth as he was willing to give her. She should be lucky he had even decided to give her that much.

She looked at him long and hard as she digested his answer. But, instead of demanding more information, she went down another path and said, "I know what you want to do, Malfoy. I know you intend to hunt down Lestrange and kill her yourself."

He waited for her protestations, the worst of his sarcasm on holiday as he didn't have enough energy to summon it after that horrible flashback.

"I want to come with you."

"Don't even try to talk me out of it Granger—" he began, responding without even really listening to her. But then he stared at her, hearing the echo of her words. "Wait…you what?"

"That woman has been responsible for injuring and killing many who I used to know and love—Sirius Black and Bill Weasley among them—and has been the cause of much of Harry's suffering. I'm sure you're aware that she's a formidable adversary, Malfoy—she's reckless and ruthless, and is probably more dangerous now than she ever was. I can't in good conscience let you go after her alone, and she has wronged me and my friends in so many ways that for their sakes and mine, I want to see her destroyed as much as you and everyone else does," she argued, voice fierce, and sounding nothing like the Granger he remembered from school.

Maybe he'd misjudged her.

He continued to stare at her, not quite believing her, and it was then that he realized just how close he was to her, and he found himself suddenly aware of everything about her, the closest female contact he'd had in months, and unbidden his body responded to her.

His eyes drifted down to her lips quite of their own accord, and very much against the logical part of his mind, his head dipped even lower until his mouth was inches away from hers.

She did not move, and he wondered what she was thinking. Despite what he thought of her, he was strangely pulled to her, this chit of a girl who was constantly surprising him when he thought he'd had her figured out…

Taking the unspoken dare, he moved even closer, and whether she wanted to or not, her lips instinctively turned up towards his, and then—

BAM.

The water balloon hit Draco square in the back, the moment between them ruined like his soaked robe, and he whirled around to face Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating above them wearing a triumphant grin, his arms laden with more balloons.

"What's this?" he cackled, throwing another balloon at them which hit the ground by Granger's feet, "Professors behaving like ickle firsties?"

Draco's wand was out in an instant as he advanced on the hapless Poltergeist. Fortunately, the thing was dead, but Draco hadn't spent years in the Dark Lord's court for nothing.

His voice was low, dangerous, and cold as he hissed, "You throw one more balloon, just one, and I'll have you wishing you weren't even dead…"

Usually, Peeves only listened to the Bloody Baron, although there were a few exceptions, and it was obvious that he was a little frightened by Draco, rightly sensing that he had not made an idle threat. Laughing maniacally at the trouble he'd just caused, Peeves zoomed away, leaving Draco with a Very Awkward Moment on his hands.

And, for once, he was speechless. What the hell had he been thinking? Surely he hadn't just been going to…?

"Er," Granger said, studiously avoiding meeting his eyes now, "I have a class soon so I suppose I should, um, be going…"

"Right," he said quickly, hoping she hadn't sensed his uneasiness. For fuck's sake, you've faced down the bloody Dark Lord! This is GRANGER, queen of rabbits and sunshine and all things fluff…get a grip!

She lingered a moment longer, as if she were waiting for him to say something more, but when he didn't, she began to walk down the hall, back straight.

Suddenly remembering something, Draco called after her, "Oh, and Granger?"

She turned, an indescribable expression on her face.

"If you want to help me kill this bitch, meet me tonight after dinner. She's not going anywhere—she knows I'll come after her. Just don't fuck anything up." Then maybe you'll see me as I really am, not as something you've put in my place.

"Oh don't worry—I'll be there," she said, voice sharp as cut glass, and disappeared down the hall.

It was a very long time before Draco moved, his thoughts trapped between past and present.

One thing was for sure—Bellatrix Lestrange was going to wish she'd never touched him before he was done with her.

To Be Continued

Ah, more D/Hr romantic tension! Please do tell me if you think I'm rushing things a bit! And, just to give credit where credit is due, the line "You can't handle the truth" comes from the movie A Few Good Men.

Please let me know what you think! I hope to have the next chapter out before Christmas…until then, please review, review, review! puppy dog eyes

See you all next time!