A/N: This chapter is much shorter, only because what I had originally planned got changed a little and what I wanted to include in this chapter would have just made this one WAY too long. Also, it wouldn't really flow properly... But please read and review :) let me know what you think. This gets a little dark, and clues into the main part of the plot ;) It does reveal quite a bit, but at the same time... does it really? You'll just have to keep reading to find out, even the later chapters.

He trembled beneath the Dark Lord's grasp as he stared into the dark, lifeless, eyes that bore through his skull. He didn't know what drove him to do it; he just reacted based on his instincts. Who was he trying to fool? He knew perfectly well as he looked at the dishevelled witch cowering behind the Dark Lord. Never had he seen her so scared in his life, he cackled at the thought. Bellatrix? Scared? That's a sight to see well worth any form of punishment he thought.

"How dare you defy your master?" the hideous creature hissed before him. "How dare you attack my most worthy servant?"

"She's nothing but a filthy slag," he spat as he cackled once more, egging the Dark Lord on to punish him. He was no longer afraid of death, he would gladly take death over having his love torn from him by the hideous man he calls 'Master'. He continued to laugh as the Dark Lord raised his wand, but to his disappointment, death did not greet him, for a meek voice called out from behind Voldemort's back, pleading him to let the man live. Instead, the wizard was met with an excruciating pain that shot through his body, his bones, and his blood. He writhed upon the floor, curling up, all the while a twister smirk upon his face, enjoying every minute of the torture. After ten more minutes of the constant pain, he finally greeted darkness with open arms.

He awoke startled from his dream to notice he had fallen asleep at the dinner table. Slowly and ever so calmly he stood up, picked up his plate and then in a sudden outburst of rage, he threw it across the room toward the wall where it smashed into hundreds of tiny shards that fell hazardously to the ground. Following shortly after were the half a dozen or so bottles of firewhiskey that were piled on the table.

The wizard then walked up the small, rickety staircase he had done for so many years before, before everything had gone to hell. Yes, at the time, he believed in what the Dark Lord was fighting for, but eventually he saw that his own master lost his way. He thought they were fighting for blood supremacy, but the only thing the withering creature seemed to care about was killing a child, a very powerful child, but a child none the less. If he hadn't been so consumed with killing the boy, maybe he wouldn't have been destroyed; maybe Potter wouldn't have even bothered hunting him he thought. It was a valid point to be made indeed. Perhaps, if Voldemort hadn't gone looking for revenge against Harry, he could have carried on with his original plans, undetected. Nobody would have known he had returned, he would have still been thought to be dead, but alas, that was not what had taken place.

As he made his way to his bedroom he picked up a photograph on the bedside table as he sat down on the edge of his four poster, king sized bed. His hand traced the silhouette of the witch he had been forever faithful to. He took in the delicate features of her dark, curly hair, the unruliness of her manner that he so desperately fell in love with. He looked at the man she stood next to that constantly turned his head in pure adoration at his wife, who never even stole so much as a glance back to him. Wife. "Wife," he scoffed, "some wife." Then the painful memory flushed through his mind again as he dropped the delicate wooden frame.

FLASHBACK

"Where are you darling?" he drawled as he crept about her sister's home, trying to find his dark beauty hidden among shadows of the brooding Manor. He heard a noise from behind an unfamiliar door down one of the less common hallways. Judging by the amount of dust, he guessed no Malfoy had been in this hall for many years, leaving only the house elves to roam it freely. However he doubted even they would brave the gloom demeanour that radiated off the walls of the very corridor. Slowly, he opened the door from where the noises were coming from, shocked that the door hadn't even been locked.

He noticed two figures, a witch and a wizard tangled together, moving together in a forbidden dance. He blushed as he quietly began to shut the door until he heard a voice that would forever haunt him.

"My Loooord," Bellatrix growled as she dug her fingernails into his back.

Hardly able to control his temper anymore Rodolphus stormed himself into the room. He had feared this for many months, but never had any reason, or strength to confront her about it, but this, this was too much. He threw an unguarded Voldemort off of his wretched wife and slammed his hands down upon her throat.

"How could you?" he screamed, tears flowing from his eyes, "How you do this to me my Bella?" But she didn't speak, she couldn't speak. He released his hands. "Answer me!" he yelled, slapping her across the face.

A wicked grin formed upon her lips as she licked off the blood that was dripping down her chin. He noticed from the corner of his eye Voldemort stood, dressed, just watching, and waiting to see how this would play out. He couldn't care less what his "master" thought however. "Rudy, love, you can't possibly be jealous can you?" she teased.

"You have no right to call me that," he threatened with another slap across the other side of her face.

She twisted a strand of her hair in her fingers as she smirked up at her husband. "Ooh, daddy like's it rough," she said, tugging on his robes.

"Don't touch me," he said coldly, brushing her off. His whole body began to shake, trying not to kill her with his bare hands.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, somebody needs to learn to share."

This comment only made him grow angrier and angrier.

Finally she began to laugh, "you can't possibly think I could love YOU, over the Dark Lord did you?" She laughed even harder at the though. The laugh wasn't one of amusement however, it was one of pure insanity and it was just what put him over the edge. With a flick of his wand, she was sent flying across the room, crashing into the wall on the other side. Before she could stand, he cast curse upon curse at her. Finally resting on the Cruciatus curse, knowing all too well the irony it would be to have her killed by her own favourite curse.

Soon Rodolphus found himself laughing. He didn't know what had caused it, maybe he had finally gone mad, maybe he was finally free of the filthy whore he had devoted his whole life to, or maybe it was just the pure satisfaction he was getting by torturing his slag of a wife.

Almost too soon however, the laughter stopped, as he was thrown to the ground by a curse that came from behind him. No sooner than he could open his eyes did he find himself trapped in the grip of the very monster that had stolen his wife from him. He knew this was it, he knew he was surely dead, but he was glad of it as he looked into the dark, soulless eyes that hovered above him.

END FLASHBACK

He wiped his tears as he got up from his bed, not wanting to drift off into his dreams that would be consumed by her face, and her memory. Instead he went back down to his dining room, and traipsed toward the fireplace. With a handful of floo powder, he muttered his destination and disappeared, completely engulfed by the green flame that flickered around him.

Draco awoke the next morning to a loud noise crashing outside his door. "Ouch, dammit," he heard along with muffled curses. Lazily he got up, drew back the curtains to find the sun just beginning to rise from behind the peaks of the mountains far off in the east. He sighed as he made his way to his door to find the source of the noise. Rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn, he was finally able to focus on the bushy haired witch that was scrambling along the ground, trying to pick up the toiletries she had dropped; all the while making sure her towel didn't unravel and reveal her bare, and dripping wet body.

Draco started at the soft curls, still wet from her shower, as they delicately formed around her shoulders and her neck. He noticed the subtle frame of her shoulder blades, protruding from her back. My how petite she is, he thought as his eyes wandered to where her towel deliciously teased by exposing a small amount of her ribcage, dangerously close to revealing her breasts as it almost fell to the floor before being brought back to its former place by a tiny, delicate hand.

Draco let out a cough, clearing his throat to announce that he was present. She jumped and squealed at the sound, causing him to smirk at the thought that he had provoked such an adorable reaction out of her. Adorable? Fucking hell, what's gotten into me? He frowned, shaking his head.

Hermione now stood facing him, a blush spreading from her forehead down her cheeks, along her neck, finally turning her collarbone into a pleasant shade of crimson. He licked his lips as he took in her full frame before him. "Like what you see?" Hermione teased, mocking him from the beginning of that year, however not sounding nearly as suave as when he had said it. Draco laughed a hearty laugh, which only caused Hermione to blush more, as well as furrow her brows. "What? I'm not enticing enough for a Malfoy?" she spat.

This caused Draco to laugh even more, so much that he had to hold on to the door frame to keep his composure. "It's not that, believe me, you are rather… tempting, I'll give you that, but you just aren't as coy as I am darling," he said as he walked over to her, gasping at her chin before walking into the washroom for his own shower. He left the door open slightly however, and smirked as he saw Granger's eyes peering through the crack in the reflection. "See something you like Granger?" he laughed from behind the door as he heard her storm off to her room in a huff.

Shaking his head, he stepped into the shower and shivered as the water filled his bones with warmth. He stood there for a moment, much like he had the first time he had showered after the war. He revelled in the way the water drizzled down his skin; how he could manipulate the way it would bend with his bare hands. He would never admit it but he loved being able to do things with his hands, for himself, without magic. It seemed to hold a lot more substance and meaning when it was done by sheer hard work. He looked at his once delicate hands, now covered in scars and callouses from the harsh realities of living as a Death Eater. He shuddered at the thought of how much damage he had caused with these hands. He tried to focus on what good he would try to do from now on with his hands.

He immediately thought of Hermione, how close she was to baring her entire naked body to him, if she had only been a second too late on grabbing for the towel. He thought of her body, dripping wet, in the shower with him. He thought of his hands caressing every gentle feature of her petite frame. He thought about his fingers tracing over every scar on her very body, and how he would massage every pain away. He thought about how tight she would be as he entered her with his own fingers. He moaned as he shut his eyes, imagining what she would feel like, imagining Gryffindor's Head Girl, willingly handing herself over to him. Fuck, he thought, bloody hell, I can't be thinking that way of her. Not her… Can I? He looked down to see that even if his mind was confused, his member definitely was not. Draco groaned he pressed his forehead against the wall of the shower. Quickly he took care of his situation and finished his shower, deciding he better get some breakfast before his first final that day.

Mid-terms for Hermione had gone undoubtedly phenomenal, as usual. The Monday morning Herbology exam she had managed to finish an hour early, allowing her time to read over her answers, and edit her essay on the many correct and incorrect uses and effects of the juices from a Snargaluff pod. The Tuesday and Wednesday she had off, allowing her to study for her Thursday Potion's exam. Potions had of course gone unsurprisingly well for her too. She had done exceedingly well in both her written and practical portions of the exam.

Friday she had her Ancient Runes exam which was slightly more difficult, yet she still managed to finish twenty minutes early, having time to rest her head until the time was up. She needed all the sleep she could get seeing as how the night before she was busy studying as well as had her rounds. Tonight she didn't have to study since it was the weekend, but she also knew that she would be spending majority of the night seeing if either she or Draco could come further into their investigation. That had caused enough stress in itself without the added tension between the two that was growing each day.

Hermione sighed at the memory of the Monday morning as she clumsily dropped her things after leaving the shower. She couldn't shake the image of his eyes, his silver, cool, grey eyes, tracing up and down her form as if she were the most delectable delicacy he had ever laid his eyes on. She blushed just at the memory of it, growing even redder as she caught a glimpse of Malfoy's long, muscular legs as his pyjama trousers dropped to the floor. Suddenly a warning alarm went off, jolting Hermione from her daydream. She only had an hour left in her Transfiguration exam and she wasn't even half finished. She thanked merlin that this had been one of her best subjects, as she managed to finish with five minutes to spare.

As she left the exam, she kept berating herself for allowing her mind to wander to such trivial things. She knew Draco was a handsome bloke, hell she could admit that, but she couldn't admit to the feelings he was giving her. She constantly shrugged them off as hormones, or due to the fact that she lived with him. She told herself that once they graduated and went their separate ways, these feelings would fade away. She told herself that, but she never really thought of it as the truth.

The rest of her exams went perfectly as usual, and she had managed to stay on track by pinching herself anytime she drifted off to dreamland again. At the end of the last exam, Hermione exhaled as she stepped into the castle hall, Ginny following shortly behind her.

"Well, I think that was my best one yet," her red headed friend announced as she rested her arm on Hermione's shoulder, using her as a leaning post.

Hermione shrugged her off, causing her to lose balance. "I'm sure your boyfriend and your brother would have to disagree," she laughed, nodding to the direction they had just come from. Harry and Ron both exited the room with placid looks on their faces. Neither of them knew what to think of the Charms exam. Hermione agreed it was the most difficult out of all of them, but she of course had no problem whatsoever. She knew her two best male friends would have had quite a struggle with it however.

Finally Ron spoke, "well, at least it's over with," he shrugged.

"Yeah, until finals at the end of the year," Harry added.

"Mate, I know you never were much of an optimist, with always thinking someone was evil and what not, but could you at least let me enjoy my Christmas break? Bloody hell!"

The four of them burst out laughing, all agreeing they should just focus on enjoying their few weeks off, and the upcoming New Year's Eve ball.

The thought of the ball however caused Hermione to hitch in her thoughts slightly. I have to dance with Malfoy… She couldn't decide if she was nervous, angry, or excited at the thought. She had hardly noticed her friends were discussing the details of that night until she heard her name being called.

"Hermione? Hellooo," Ron said, waving his arms in front of her.

"Hmm?" she asked.

"I said who are you going with?"

"Oh, um, well…" she wasn't sure how to tell her friends the news. The two obviously still harboured bad feelings towards Draco. She knew Harry would probably be the first to come around, seeing how he was the one had first acknowledged that Draco wasn't all bad, back during the war. Ron however, would take a lot more time, possibly even never coming to terms with the idea. He would think she was being forced to, and in a way she was, but not by Draco. It was part of her head duties.

Sensing her hesitation Ginny jumped in, changing the topic to quidditch which got the boys on an ongoing rant about who was going to win the World Cup this year. Hermione shot a grateful look to Ginny who nodded in return. She'd just have to deal with it later, when she had planned out what exactly she was going to say to them, so they would believe it was indeed only just her duty. But was it really just that? Or was there more to it, did she really want to dance with the Slytherin boy that had caused her so much harm in the past? That couldn't be it, she thought. Yet deep in the pit of her heart there was a flutter that told her otherwise.

As she continued down the corridor with her friends toward the Gryffindor tower, she noticed a familiar blonde haired boy staring at her as she passed. Her eyes met Draco's for a few seconds before turning away to her feet, hiding the blush that seemed to grow on her face at the mere thought of his name. Those thoughts seemed to also grow increasingly as the days passed.

"So have you gathered everyone you could find?" the wizard asked the bushy haired, bearded wizard in front of him.

"Yes, yes they are all waiting for your orders," he quickly replied, "y-you do have orders, right?"

He gripped his wand tightly, trying not to allow his brother to see through his cover. "Of course I do," he lied. "The time just isn't right," he added, loosening his grip on his wand.

"I'm sorry brother, it's just you've been, distracted as of late," the other wizard said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "You will get your revenge, I swear my life on it, just make sure you have a clear head when you do all right mate?" Rodolphus just nodded in response to his brother's words. "Now what exactly did you have planned?"

Rodolphus shook as he collapsed into a chair, his head falling into his hands. "I-I don't know," he admitted. "I know who I'm after, the filthy whore's family, and the blood-traiter woman who murdered her, but, I haven't quite figured out how. We can't plan an attack with no sure point of entry; we figured that out almost two months ago."

Rabastan nodded in agreement, "Right, and heavens know there's no chance of us reaching Azkaban any time soon, our best plan we have so far is to attack the ministry, but that will just alert the public, ruining any chance of breaching Hogwarts or Azkaban. We need to think of another point of attack."

Just then a wicked grin spread across the older brother's face. "Not all hope is lost for Azkaban brother, you're forgetting about one useful tool we have," he said as he picked up the Daily Prophet that lay on the table before him. "And guess who now works for the transportation of criminals to and from Azkaban?"

That morning had been all too rough on poor Stanley Shunpike. He was terrified of the dreadful place he once had to serve time in. He was honoured to be participating in such an honourable job, but he was still terrified at the thought of going back to the place he still harboured nightmares about. He only had himself to thank for being put in this mess though, for if it weren't for his big mouth, the ministry never would have assigned him to the task. Why did he have to open his mouth and tell the world that on numerous occasions he had transported the famous Harry Potter, to his destination safely and unharmed. That if it weren't for him 'Harry nev'r would made it alive' according to him of course.

But no, once again his fat mouth had gotten him sent to Azkaban once again, at least this time not as a prisoner, though he did have to deal with them. It was his first day too, so he was especially nervous. His knees knocked against one another as he stood in the doorway of the knight bus, making sure every last prisoner, along with the aurors for protection, were loaded up. Once the doors shut behind him, he directed the driver where to go. In a matter of half an hour, they arrived at the secret location for apparating in and out of Azkaban. Of course no prisoner could apparate out of the prison, but they sure could apparate in. Stanley stood shaking, as he watched everyone climb out of the bus. He had to make an unbreakable vow with the minister himself that he would not utter a single word about the location of the apparition point. He gulped at the very thought of what would happen to him if he did. He recalled the Minister's reasoning for why they had changed from the location within the ministry anyway.

"Because it is unsafe. Too many times have powerful people broken in to the prison through the ministry. It is also why we are hiring you, an outsider from the ministry, as well as a debt to you for misleadingly imprisoning you in Azkaban."

He shuddered at just the mention of his time served there. Sure, this time there were no Dementors, but just the very thought of the place brought shivers to his core. This was surely going to be his least favourite job, but he knew he must, for if he hadn't been such a loud mouth in the past, many problems could have been greatly avoided, unfortunately that was not the case. He inhaled as he climbed aboard the bus again when the aurors returned, and headed back to the ministry for another batch of prisoners. This was his life now.

Hope you enjoyed it :) Next chapter will be long as it will include all the things I couldn't put in this chapter, and more.