A/N: School started for me a couple of weeks ago, which is why I haven't updated. I'll update as often as I can, but water polo takes up mounds of my time and what little free time I have is spent doing homework. Not quite as many reviews for the first couple chapters as I would have liked, but DO is on more alert lists than I have reviews, so I guess that's something. Love.

Chapter 3: Nighttime Happenings

Ron was sulking about the contract over dinner that night, and Hermione was thoroughly fed up with it. "Ron, stop that," she hissed after a while.

He feigned deafness and looked to Harry. "Are we going to go to the Ministry tomorrow?" the redhead asked.

Harry looked uncomfortable and shrugged. "Harry, I know you don't want to go," Hermione said, "but we really need to get you an Apparition License."

"I know," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I guess we'll go tomorrow, then. It's not like it'll get any better the longer we wait."

Hermione smiled at him and took another bite of her spaghetti. "I'm going to need to stop somewhere to get more money, too. My parents gave me a lot of money for this trip, and I have loads of money from working the past three summers, but I didn't take out much of it. It would also be a good idea to get Malfoy some muggle pounds so that he can go out without us," she said.

"Malfoy" seemed to be the magic word for Ron. He scowled and began attacking his pasta. Hermione waited for him to speak. Faithful to her expectations, Ron muttered, "I still can't believe I'm on the contract only once. And I didn't even need to sign!" He stuffed his mouth with food and nearly choked.

"Ron," Hermione said calmly. "Ron!" she said more firmly when he didn't respond to her first call. His behavior was giving her a headache, and he still wasn't looking at her. Well, that was fine by her because she was through with being calm and patient. When she next spoke her voice was harsh. "This is the reason I didn't give you any power over him in the contract. You are unpredictable, hot-headed and rash. You do things without thinking, and while that's fine sometimes, I'm not going to let Malfoy piss you off and have you nullify the contract out of anger."

She stood to leave and Ron exploded. He hopped out his chair, causing it to crash to the floor loudly. "I wouldn't do that, Hermione! I wouldn't ever." Ron was shaking with his anger and seemed to be at a complete loss of words beyond what he'd just said.

"Then act like it," she snapped and turned to leave.

Ron reached out after her and grabbed her arm, his grip astonishingly tender. "Hermione, I wouldn't, you must know that," he said in almost a whisper.

For an instant she thought he would kiss her, but when he just stood there looking at her pleadingly she sighed. It took all of her willpower to not snatch him up in a comforting hug, but she held back and said, "I can't change it, Ron."

"Fine," he sighed. "Please don't leave."

Hermione looked back at their dinners on the table, mostly finished, and then thought of Malfoy back in their hotel room, with his insults. "Okay."

Ron picked up his chair and sat down in it, his face red as only a Weasley's could be. Hermione hesitated, and then sat back down in her chair as well. Talk was sparse, and somewhat terse, but even so, it was comforting to sit with her two best friends.

They traveled back to the hotel in near dark and went to their respective rooms. Hermione opened her door to find that the light was on, but Malfoy was asleep on his bed. She shut the door quietly and got ready for bed. Just as she was about to switch off the light, the blond boy gave a start and shot up in bed. "Who—oh, it's you, Granger," he said, calming down. "Turn off the light, it's bedtime."

"But you were just asleep," she said in amazement. Hermione hadn't ever met anyone who slept as much as Malfoy did, excepting perhaps a cat or two. He seemed to be awake only about five hours of the day, to scarf down a breakfast and a lunch, primp himself, and then fall back to bed for the rest of the day and night.

"Yes, and now I'm ready to sleep more," he told her. "Turn off the light."

"You aren't hungry at all?" she asked him.

"Light off!" he demanded.

Hermione scowled—she didn't want to him the impression that he had any power over her, but she had been planning on turning off the light anyway. In the end she stuck up her chin and stalked over to her bed, where she promptly cracked open a book to read.

She hadn't read more than a few words when Malfoy got out of bed with a creaking noise and snapped the light off. "I was reading," she said with another scowl.

"And I was sleeping," he countered.

"You've been sleeping all day!" she said indignantly.

"Yes, but you lose a lot of sleep when you're worried for two months that the Dark Lord is going to come after you and murder you. All I'm doing is catching up, and I'm sure you won't lose anything vital by missing a night or two of reading. When you're all alone in a room, you can read to your heart's desire. But I need my beauty rest," he told her. She could hear him shifting on his bed. "Perhaps you should try that sometime. Although you may be too far gone for it to do much good," he said nastily.

Hermione closed her book. It was a good thing that she hadn't been seriously intending to read—she would have put up a bigger fight if she had. She didn't go to sleep right away, though. There was something strange and wonderful that happened when the lights went off—Malfoy became a person. Not, of course, in the sense that he was human—his species was never in question. It was his manner that changed. He went from being a stuck-up, spoiled jackass into a decent person. There were no insults (like the one he'd just given her), and even when he made accusations, they were quiet and good-natured, as if he wasn't seriously angered with her, just looking for answers.

So instead of sleeping when the lights were off, Hermione sat and waited for him to become the other Malfoy. The nice one. It was tempting to go to sleep and leave him to himself for the night, but she had to savor the civility while it lasted. She was not disappointed. "I'm going to have to stay with you three the whole time, aren't I?" he asked in a resigned voice.

"It's in the contract," she reminded him.

"Right. What are we doing tomorrow?"

"Going to the Ministry. Harry needs to get his Apparition License. While he's busy there, we can go get money for us."

"I don't need money," Malfoy pointed out, though not unkindly.

Hermione sighed. "You need muggle money," she said, annoyed even though he hadn't said it rudely. "We all know you have plenty gold."

He was silent for a while. Thinking it was the end of their conversation, Hermione snuggled down into her blankets. Then, "Granger?"

"Yes, Malfoy?"

"I just—" he paused and then said really fast, "I just wanted to thank you. Again."

"For what?" she said, bemused.

"For making them take me. You know as well as I that if it had been just Potter and Weasley they would have turned me down in an instant."

"They wouldn't have—" Hermione began uncomfortably. She knew they would have, but she felt the need to defend her friends.

"Shut up and let me finish! I hardly ever thank people, and it's just like you to go and interrupt. And they would have left me, you and I both know it. I sat there for a month and a half, remembering every slander and every laugh, and prayed to Merlin that you would be there when they came because if you weren't, then I was as good as dead."

He fell silent. "You're welcome, Malfoy," she said.

"Why, Granger?"

"Because you're a person, and everyone deserves a second chance," she said, remembering her own second chance. In the schools she had attended before Hogwarts, people had mocked her, avoided her, and hated her, because she was different. They called her names and made fun of her hair and bookish ways. It was depressing just to think about it. Hogwarts had been her second chance at a school, at friendship, at a life.

"Bloody hell. Maybe it should be Saint Granger and not Saint Potter. If I wanted an answer like that I would've raised Buddha or Ghandi or one of those freaks from the grave. Give me a real answer." His words were a demand but his tone was pleading.

Hermione realized that he honestly didn't understand how she could do him the kindness after his treatment of her. "Malfoy, I…it doesn't matter what you said to me in the past. You're not a good person, I'll grant you that. You're mean and selfish and you can even be cruel at times. But I've seen terror and pain on your face, and I know that somewhere in there you are a person as much as I am. You may not be a good person," she told him, more quietly, "but you're not a bad one either. And no one should be forced to be a Death Eater if they don't want to."

At that, Malfoy startled her by laughing quietly into the hush of the room. "You have no idea. Good night, Granger."

"Good night, Malfoy."

The next morning Hermione packed up her things carefully and vanished the spare bed. "Get up, Malfoy," she said as she began putting things to rights in the room. He rolled over with a moan but made no move to get up. She ignored this and continued to put the room back together. When she was finished, she told him to wake up again.

"Mrrf, dunwanna," he slurred, pulling the blankets over his head.

"Malfoy!" she snapped at him.

He sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes and looked at her. "Pack up, we're leaving in a half hour."

At this he muttered a comment she chose to not hear and left the room. Hermione knocked on the door to Harry's and Ron's room to wake them.

Less than a half hour later, they were on their way to the Ministry of Magic.

Hermione dropped Harry off at the Ministry and then parked the car and pulled Ron and Malfoy into a convenience store down the street. "Now," she said in a quiet voice while they stood in an isolated corner, "We're going to Apparate to Diagon Alley so he"—she indicated Malfoy—"can get muggle money, and then I'm going to have to find a muggle bank so I can get more."

"Why can't you just get some at Gringotts?" Ron asked her.

"Because I don't put money into a Gringotts account. That is to say, I have one, but most of my money is elsewhere. Now. Malfoy, we're going to have to Side-Along-Apparate just to be sure it doesn't violate the contract. Ron, I want you to meet us right outside Gringotts, okay?"

He looked horrified at the thought of her Side-Along-Apparating with Malfoy but nodded anyhow and vanished with a crack. As soon as he was gone, the blond reached into a pocket and pulled out a large cloak.

She was sure she had glimpsed a spark of anger and betrayal on Ron's face just before he vanished, and it was so extreme that it left her with a residual feeling of guilt. Guilt for what? She wondered. It's not like I want Malfoy to Side-Along-Apparate with me. It's not like I want to make Ron sit there and wait for us. I just don't want to go through the trouble of taking off my own spells. The contract should be broken as little as possible, and for it to be broken over something stupid like Apparating… She shook her head to clear it and found Malfoy giving her a bemused look. "What?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, pulling up the hood of his cloak. "Can we get this over with?"

"Sure." She stepped a bit closer and hesitated. "This is the first time I've done this," she informed him nervously. "Could you—could you stand before me and hold my shoulders?"

So close to him, she could see Malfoy's eyes widen and he looked like he was about to retort something but thought better of it. "If you lose me or any of my body parts, Granger," he hissed as he stepped in front of her and gingerly put his fingertips on her shoulders, "I will personally see that the favor is repaid twice over."

Hermione ignored his remarks and looked him up and down. She did not intend to fail at this. However…it was a tricky thing, Side-Along-Apparition. It was easy enough to know where one's own limbs were (and easy enough to splinch them, if you were inexperienced), but unless you were accustomed to it, adding in another person's body was as dangerous as turning your back on a bludger. "You're going to need to hold on tighter than that," she warned him.

He fixed his grip with a look of distaste. This would be so much simpler if he was someone I liked, she thought. Side-Along-Apparition was easier if there was less space between two people (hugging was best, particularly for people new to it), because it reduced the distance in between bodies that made it chancy. She took a deep breath, accounted for Malfoy's space as much as she could, and Disapparated.

After that moment of intense discomfort that always came from Apparating, Hermione opened her brown eyes to meet Malfoy's grey. "All there?" she asked as he quickly removed his hands from her shoulders.

"Two feet, two legs, two arms and hands, one head and one body. Good enough, Granger," he said.

She looked at him queerly. "Did you just compliment me?"

"Don't let it go to your head. I've seen other people make their first Side-Along-Apparitions, and it's not usually pretty."

Hermione turned away so he wouldn't see her grin and walked resolutely to the entrance of Gringotts. Ron's red hair stood out instantly and she made a beeline for it, not particularly caring if Malfoy was behind her. She felt unclean from their brief touch, even if she had been complimented.

They walked up to the desk and handed their key to the goblin sitting behind it. Malfoy came up on the side of them and handed his key to another goblin. "Malfoy, we'll meet you out in front," Hermione informed him as their goblin led Ron and her off.

Hermione tried not to think about the ensuing ride belowground as much as possible. Up at the desk again, they converted Ron's sickles and knuts into pounds and went to wait outside. "I really hate those tracks," Hermione complained, feeling sick.

"I think they're fun," Ron said plaintively.

Hermione shook her head vehemently, which made her feel worse. "No way. They're awful."

Ron saw how distressed she was and took a step forward, laying a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine in a minute," she told him snappily, though she was grateful for his hand.

Malfoy came out soon, and immediately asked, "How much do I owe you?"

Hermione couldn't help but notice that Ron inched closer protectively. In her head, she did the math and then said, "105 pounds, since we're splitting the price of the room." He frowned, pulling out the money and looked through them speculatively before pulling out the right bills and handing them to her. She stuffed them in a pocket of her jeans.

"Now, back to the car. Do you remember where we Apparated from, Ron?"

"Of course," he said, bristling. His fingers tightened on her shoulder.

"Then wait for us there," she said firmly. Her tone brooked no argument, so he held his grip for just an instant longer before letting go and Disapparating with a crack! Hermione turned to Malfoy, who looked at her with his lips pursed together. "Trust me, I like this no more than you do," she said as he stepped near and put his hands on her shoulders.

She was grateful that he said nothing, or if he did his words were lost as she Apparated them back to the convenience store.

The three of them piled into the car and went to find a bank. Ron and Malfoy were confused as to why the muggle world had so many banks. "That's stupid," Ron said, "How do you know where to find your bank if there's more than one of them?"

"You just try to find one in your area," Hermione answered, trying to peer out the window and keep an eye on the road. "There's going to be one nearly everywhere you go, so you can get money. Since muggles can't Apparate to their bank and back to where they started from, it's easier this way. There are things called ATMs where you can take money out, but sometimes they won't let you if you're from the wrong bank," she told him.

"Are there only eighty of them?" Ron asked, confused.

"What?"

"The Eighty-Ms. Are there only eighty of them?"

Hermione's brows knit together before she realized what he was saying. "Not Eighty-Ms, Ron, A.-T.-M.-s. It's…well, never mind. I'll find some place soon."

True to her word, within the next few minutes she had found a good place to stop and get money.

They went back to the Ministry then, and saw Harry waiting out on the curb. As soon as she drove up, Harry ran to them and jumped into the backseat beside Ron. "Go, Hermione," he said grimly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed.

"Just drive. Leaky Cauldron, I think. Or anywhere, really. I don't care. Just not here."

Hermione set her mouth and drove. After a while, she asked, "What happened?" She had a sinking feeling that he hadn't gotten his Apparition License.

"Scrimgeour is what happened," Harry answered tersely.

A sigh escaped her. "And your Apparition License?"

"Is nonexistent," he snapped.

Hermione took a few calming breaths and drove on. "Sorry, Harry," she said after a minute. "I didn't mean to press. It's only…"

"Yes, yes, our whole...mission or whatever you want to call it, depended on it," he finished sullenly, staring out the window. Hermione twisted her rearview mirror so she could see him better.

"Mission?" she asked with a small smile. "I think it's more of an adventure."

Though it was a weak joke, it had the desired reaction; Harry's face turned from grim to accepting.

"It'll work out fine," Hermione reassured him.

There was silence for a while, so Hermione turned the radio on quietly. Even so, she saw Ron lean over toward Harry and heard him ask softly, "What are Eighty-Ms?"

The four of them found Tom drying glasses behind the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. "Hello there, Harry. Hermione, Ron," he greeted them, acknowledging Malfoy under his cloak with a nod.

"Hello, Tom," Harry said. "We were wondering if you had enough rooms for us to stay the night?"

The barman frowned. "I've only got three rooms left. Will that be enough for you four?"

"Three is perfect, Tom," Harry said.

They got their rooms, with Harry and Ron sharing, and later that night the trio had a meeting in the shared room. "Where are we going tomorrow?" Hermione asked.

"Good question," Harry said.

"You have no clue?"

"You're the one supposed to have all the answers," Ron quipped.

Hermione frowned. "We may need to stay here another few nights, then. We can do research at Flourish and Blotts. Hopefully we can find something helpful there." Hermione stood up and paced. "We'll need to make a list of people to talk to for information. Maybe we could start with Lucius Malfoy, see what he knows of the Horcruxes. After all, we've got his son, and we know that at one time he was in contact with the diary. Malfoy might even know something! And since he's bound to us, all we have to do is ask him."

"That doesn't mean he'll say anything," Harry pointed out.

"Of course not, but there's a chance of it, and as far as I see it, we're going to need as much help as we can get, even if that help is coming from an…unfavorable source." Hermione stopped her pacing and looked to her boys. "Can I have some parchment and a quill, please?"

Hermione began a list of leads, resources, and people that they should look into for Horcrux information. In the end, it was not near as long as she wished it to be, but it was long enough for a beginning.

Lucius Malfoy's cell smelled like moldy oranges and old licorice. The man sat in the corner, head bowed between his knees. Hopelessness exuded off of him like the odors from the cell. Down the hall, rats quarreled and chased each other past his cell. The blond didn't look up, not even when a third rat peeked around the corner of his chamber and then began determinedly pushing a small roll of parchment towards him.

The rat, which was missing a toe, got fed up with his task and went to the man and squealed at him. Lucius Malfoy still didn't look up, so the rat bit him on the ankle. That certainly got his attention, and he had more than a few things to say about it.

The rat darted at him again, and Lucius kicked it hard. This time it sulkily maintained its distance. The man wearily stood and went to pluck the parchment from the dank stone floor. "Had better be worth it," he muttered under his breath as he unrolled it…

Ron awoke panting. His sheets were twisted, and as he struggled to right them he glanced at the clock. 2:17 AM, it read. Shaking, he sat up in bed. Though this particular dream was fairly mild, it reeked of the future, and that alone shook him up. Not all of them were as placid. He had woken up from far worse dreams, but it was still unsettling, all this prophetic dreaming business. His fingers couldn't help going to the scars on his arms where the brains had marked him. Those were the only physical marks they had left on him, but the future dreams they had given him were far worse.

Well, he had seen his dreams altered before. He had dreamed-seen Hannah Abbot break her nose falling down the stairs, and had been lucky enough to catch the date and general time of the occurrence. Ron had waited at the stairs until she came by and then had made certain she didn't break her nose. That was one of the few dreams in which he'd managed to see the date—he wasn't usually so fortunate. This dream with Lucius, he hadn't a clue as to when it would occur—if it would occur. He could alter it if he wanted to, but he wasn't sure if the consequences would be good or bad.

He hadn't told Harry about this new…ability yet. The dreams were too unpredictable, too unregulated. There was no order, which was frustrating. Ron had learned to sit back and wait for them to happen. There had been things dreamed before this that hadn't passed yet, and also things that had passed.

And it was entirely possible that this dream wouldn't happen for a long time yet.

After all, he was still waiting for Percy to die.

When the memories occur,
Of a life you haven't lived.
Stay still, you will.
I've got a secret to hide,
And I've got a secret to hide...

—Coheed and Cambria, "2113"