It was dawn. The leaves were floating on the wind and the grass was crisp and wet with dew. Hermione awoke to the soft breeze rustle the blinds of her open window. She opened her eyes with one thought: Ron. She sat up, as if in a dream, and looked over at her window. The blinds rustled for a moment more, then stopped. Hermione lay back again and closed her eyes. The tears were rushing to her eyes fast. And that was how every morning began for Hermione Granger. With tears.

At eight, Harry knocked on her door. "Time for breakfast," he called, and Hermione, already showered and dressed, affirmed that she would be down in a minute. She took another look at herself in the mirror. She would continue for Ron and her parents. She wouldn't wallow anymore. She had so many reasons to continue now, to push on, to win the war. Hermione stared at herself, willing her confidence to rise. Her gaze turned to the framed photographs on her desk and she turned and picked them up and stared at them. One was a Muggle picture of her parents, holding each other and smiling. The other was of Ron on his broom during a Quidditch match, looking firm and concentrated. He sprang to life and smacked a Quaffle away from the hoops before going back to his position. She set her jaw and quickly put the photographs into her drawer. She wouldn't cry now. Not now. She turned and went down to breakfast.

It was silent again with everyone shooting her and the Weasleys sympathetic glances. The Weasleys, in turn, were either self-absorbed in their thoughts or shooting her sympathetic glances too. Hermione just stared at her food, trying to ignore all the attention. When she had finished, she summoned up her confidence and cleared her throat.

"So what's on the agenda for today?" she asked, meeting the stares of everyone at the table. "Well, don't look at me like that. Aren't we going to do something? We can't just sit here and take everything lying down!" She looked at Harry for support, but it was Ginny who spoke up.

"Right. Harry, didn't you have something planned for today?" she nudged him, and Harry, in the middle of eating his French toast, coughed and swallowed before replying.

"Yes, I was going to call the D.A. to practise our spells. We're going to need to learn some new ones."

Hermione smiled. Everything would be all right. It would be all right.

It turned out to be a splendid practise. The girls weren't sobbing, and the pathetic glances aimed at her had lessened. Lavender, the Patil twins, and Susan Bones had approached her only once to ask if she had wanted to talk, and, after turning them down with a smile, she had hexed Seamus before teaching him the right way to perform the spell. Since they all hadn't been able to finish their sixth year, they had to know these spells to defend themselves and, thanks to Harry and Hermione, they had their own professors as well.

The practise ended with a successful and hopeful note; everyone had been able to perform the spell successfully again and again. Harry, knackered, said a nap was in order, and disappeared to his room. Hermione smiled. She was feeling just a little better already. An hour had passed, and Arthur called Hermione to him.

"Hermione, can you please get Harry? I have some ideas I want to talk to you two about."

Hermione nodded. "Sure." She bounded up the stairs and was about to knock on Harry's door when she heard a loud, pained moan. Her eyes widened and she pressed her ear against the door. She could hear her best friend thrashing, and she knocked hesitantly. "Harry?" she called.

Opening the door a peak, she saw that he was sleeping, but he was writhing around, sweating so much that his pillow and sheets were soaked. His eyes were shut tightly, and when Hermione went to him, he began to moan again. "Ron!" he exclaimed. "Shut up! You sick—" He thrashed around, and Hermione shook him.

"Harry! Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, horrified. She shook him some more, and Harry's eyelids fluttered open. "Her—Hermione?" he panted.

"What's wrong? What were you dreaming about? What happened?"

"I saw…I saw them do it…to him!" he sobbed.

"What? Do what? Ron?" And her brown eyes widened even more. "Harry…"

"Death eaters. I saw them do it. He…he showed it to me." Harry curled up and cried.

"Oh Harry!"

"I don't want to tell you details. Don't tell Arthur or Molly or any of the other Weasleys," he said, shaking as he tried to control his sobs. "I don't…want them to know. If they know I had a vision of that, they'll want to know what happened, and they can't know." He panted as his weeping subsided, and got up, wiping his face. He took a deep breath and put his glasses on with a trembling hand.

Hermione's mantra (be strong, be strong, be strong) was playing in her head. "Mr. Weasley wants us downstairs. He wants to talk to us about something." Harry nodded and let out a sigh. "Are you all right now?"

"I'll be fine. Let's go."

They both padded down the stairs and found Arthur in the kitchen. Since the attack a year or so ago, Arthur looked much better, though his scars could never be removed. The Weasleys had gone through so much; first Arthur's face, then Bill's bite, then Fred, and then Ron, both passed on. It was so hard, Hermione couldn't imagine their loss. She had to be strong for them. Her mantra began playing again.

"Sorry to disturb your nap, Harry," Arthur began. "But Hermione was right; we do need to get a move on. You, Hermione, and," Hermione noticed a slight catch in Arthur's voice, "Ron were at the Malfoy Manor just a year ago, weren't you?"

"Yes. We tried to go back, remember, but the wards are too heavy for us."

"I remember. But…perhaps we should formulate a different sort of plan…"

It was here Hermione's intelligent brain started working. She could easily get Draco to get them into the manor! Well, it wouldn't be easy, but it could still work! And in repayment, she wouldn't tell them about her secret source, or at least who he was. Wasn't she the brains of everything anyway?

"…we'd need to somehow get the last Horcrux. You researched it, am I right, Hermione? Hermione?" Harry frowned and waved a hand in front of Hermione's face.

"I have an idea," she said, her brown eyes sparkling. "I think I can find a way to get into the Malfoy Manor, and I'll tell you when I'm done formulating my plan."

"And, er, what's the last Horcrux?"

"It's Voldemort's snake."

"What? How did you figure that?"

"Well, Arthur was attacked by a snake, right?" Mr. Weasley nodded. "And you had the attacker's point of view in a dream, or vision, right Harry?" Harry nodded. "And you have a piece of Voldemort's soul in you, correct?" At this, Harry nodded again, swallowing. "So the only way you could have had this vision is if a piece of Voldemort's soul is in the snake that attacked Arthur. You were able to take on the snake's point of view through the piece of Voldemort's soul in both of you."

Harry beamed. "Well aren't you brilliant."

"Why thank you."

"So that would mean we would have to get into the manor when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is there with his Death eaters. I don't know where he goes when he's not there, but it's a fact that his snake is near wherever You-Know-Who is," Arthur said.

"Right. So I'll try and formulate a plan," she said with a smile. As if only to make her day better, Hermione felt her pocket warm considerably, and she pulled out the Sickle secretly and looked at it before smiling. Just a week from now. Everything seemed to be going so perfectly.

"Well, I'd better go get started, shouldn't I?" Hermione said, and got up and rushed to her room to begin her research and careful planning.

It was midnight. Draco stumbled into bed after a rather long evening spent sitting next to his father in a meeting with the Dark Lord himself. The Dark Lord had been more than unhappy with their progress in figuring out Harry Barnes's whereabouts. Draco himself didn't know; Granger had never told him. The Dark Lord was getting impatient, and had questioned him nonstop. Had he won her love yet? Her trust? Why not? Why so slow? She's nothing but a Mud-blood, she must have told him something useful!

Draco was exhausted. He dropped into bed without bothering to take off his robes, and he closed his eyes, dreaming of a better tomorrow. And that was how every evening ended for Draco Malfoy. In exhaustion.

He woke to silence and got up, dressed, and prepared himself for today. He practised his stoic and disinterested expressions in the mirror before clenching his jaw and going down for breakfast. Breakfast was a quiet ordeal, as it always was, save for the occasional rustle of paper from his father, and when he had finished, Lucius would make eye contact with him. "Don't forget your mission," he said, and Draco nodded and turned away.

His parents had changed considerably. They no longer cared so desperately for their cause, but they, Lucius especially, had changed and now wanted the war to be over. Their fear in the Dark Lord, however, kept them from doing anything against his wishes or else face death.

Draco made himself look impeccable yet again. He changed his robes, messed his hair up and slicked it back, then washed it and combed it nicely. He wouldn't be seeing anyone today, but he liked liking what he saw in the mirror. There was nothing for him to do, and nowhere for him to go. He was effectively trapped in his own manor. The times he had met with the Mud-blood had only been with the Dark Lord's permission.

Draco straightened his robes again and eyed himself critically. He was near perfect. Perfectly combed blonde hair, attractive grey eyes, a pale non-blemished face, a lean body, strong arms; what girl wouldn't fall for him? He frowned. Why wouldn't Granger fall for him already? Thinking about her reminded him of his thoughts just the night before, and he shivered and cast those thoughts away quickly.

He took a deep breath and stared at himself in the mirror again. Maybe he could find a book to read or something. Something other than the books on dark magic and the genealogy of every Pure-blood in history.

Hermione was doing her own reading. She was reading all the books she could find on dark magic and wards. There had to be some way to break through any type of ward, and she would find out.

There was a knock on her door, and she looked up. The door opened, and in stepped Ron. Hermione's eyes widened considerably, and her mouth dropped. "R-Ron?" she stuttered, and Ron smiled at her.

Hermione blinked and found him gone. The door was closed, and she was lying with her head against the book she had just been reading five minutes ago. She'd been asleep for ten minutes. Hermione shook her head, and a little chill ran through her. This was for Ron and her parents. She would help Harry take Voldemort down for good at whatever cost. She rubbed her eyes and began to study again.

There was a knock on her door, and Hermione jumped at the familiarity of the sound. "Come in," she said, her voice emanating a false confidence. Harry came in, much to Hermione's relief (and a little to her disappointment), and he looked at all the books surrounding her.

"Come out of your hole, 'mione," he told her with a somewhat disbelieving look on his face. "I'm surprised your brain hasn't exploded with everything you've got in there."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a good thing at least one of us studies, or else you wouldn't know what you know now."

Harry managed a half grin. "You're right. Thank you, oh intelligent one. Now will you come down for dinner? You managed to skip lunch and tea."

"Oh, all right," Hermione groaned. "But I hate losing my concentration just to take a break to eat!"

Harry laughed. "Come on," he coaxed. "I'll meet you down."

"All right." Hermione smiled as her best mate left. Once he was gone, she managed to scan another page before Ginny called up to her, and she had to rush to the table before her friend could come up to drag her down.

At the table, George was talking amiably to Charlie, the second son of the Weasleys, and they were talking about dragons. It was a good thing Charlie had come after Fred had died a year ago, or else George would have taken Fred's death even harder than he had. Percy was sitting alone. He was somewhat of an outcast in the family because he had been in deep with the Ministry the months before Voldemort took over. He hadn't even come back right away to join the Order, either. Hermione felt bad for him sometimes, but other times she felt as though he deserved what he got. Right now was one of the times she felt the latter.

She had half an hour till her meeting with Malfoy, so she took her time eating. Her mind wandered, though Charlie and George continually tried to make her laugh by bantering around her. She was just too busy thinking. The time came, and Hermione finished eating, excused herself, and grabbed a jacket before walking out the door and Disapparating.

She arrived at the shack and while she waited outside, making sure Draco was in there, her thoughts meandered to Ron. It was strange dreaming about him like that. He was still so young. How could he have died? She shivered. She couldn't even imagine what Harry had seen. Her heart hardened against Voldemort again. How could someone be that cruel and heartless?

She didn't want to think of it anymore, and walked into the Shrieking Shack. "Hello," she greeted him, and Draco nodded.

"Granger."

"So what did you want to meet about?" she asked, and he pursed his lips.

"I think I may have a breath of where your parents might be."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Where?"

"They're still in Australia, but hidden in the outbacks somewhere. Someone from my side found them and kidnapped them. Currently they're in the middle of nowhere. I don't know the exact location."

"Are they…alive?"

"Yes."

"Oh my goodness, thank you," Hermione cried, and threw herself at Draco. "Thank you. At least I know they're still out there and alive." She leaned up and gave him a kiss before stepping away. "I'm going to go find them," she said, fist clenched.

"But can you? Don't you have other responsibilities?" Draco asked, frowning.

Thoughts of getting into Malfoy's house filled her mind, and she remembered her duty. She was going to forget her parents for a little while. She had to. But…but she could send someone else.

"You're right. That reminds me. Malfoy, the Order is planning to try and kill Nagini. I know that they can do it when the Dark Lord's there, because his snake is always with him. Can you help us?"

Draco froze for a moment. What was he supposed to do? The Dark Lord hadn't said anything about this. What would he have said? And why in the name of everything good was she looking so…like that? Those hopeful eyes, that mouth tilted up like that…

"S-sure," Draco said, making sure he looked confident.

Hermione smiled in relief. "Thank you so much. I'm really glad you decided to help our side." Her eyes twinkled at him, and he swallowed nervously.

"Me too."

Draco walked up the long path to his house. As he entered, he could hear voices, and the house elf greeted him. "The Dark Lord's messenger is here again. He's in the parlour talking with your father," the trembling house elf informed him, and Draco thanked him with a nod. Though the messenger, also known as Peter Pettigrew's replacement and the Dark Lord's bitch, met him every time Draco went to meet Hermione, his stomach always started churning at the mention of the Dark Lord. He didn't want to say anything wrong lest he be punished for it. He nervously cleared his throat twice before stepping into the parlour.

The messenger and his father turned to face him as he walked in, and Draco felt exposed. The messenger nodded at him. "Draco. I came to see you. Take a seat." He gestured to a chair, and Draco took it, feeling like a prisoner in his own home.

The messenger was a small man with glasses that was constantly falling down his nose. He looked tiny and quite impressionable, but he was confident and very laid-back. He cleared his throat and gestured to Draco. "So, you met with the girl today?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I told her what the Dark Lord told me to. I told her that her parents are being kept in the outback in Australia."

The little man, writing fervently, nodded. "Mhm. Good. And what did she tell you?"

"The Order is planning on coming to the Manor since the Dark Lord resides here now, and killing his snake."

The little man looked up finally, concern on his face. His father's head also rose, looking surprised.

"Did she ask for your help?" the little man asked, and Draco clenched his jaw for a moment and thought of her. Her and her mad brown hair, those hopeful brown eyes, her lips…

"Funnily, no. I expected her to, but I've always known her to have a huge amount of pride. She probably wants to do it herself first, but I don't doubt her asking for my help when the time gets closer."

The little man was satisfied and continued his writing. "I'll ask the Dark Lord what you should do if she does ask for it."

"Thank you."

"Did she say when they were planning this?"

"No. She said she was just formulating the plans, but doesn't have a good grip on it yet."

The little man's head bobbed and he finished writing and looked up. "Very well. Thank you. I'll see you soon with the next time you should meet her and what you should say."

Draco stood. He was more than a head taller. He could easily pound the little man if he'd wanted to.

"Thank you."

The messenger, with a nod, bid the two goodbye and walked up the manor's long staircase to the room the Dark Lord was now living in. Draco rubbed his face.

"I hate meeting with her," he muttered, and his father shook his head.

"This war will be over once the Order's been vanquished," his father said, trying to comfort him.

Draco nodded, but didn't believe a word.

A/N: Sorry for the mad wait. I've been quite busy with exams and, well, life. I'll try and update more frequently now that I'm on my holiday! I hope you liked the considerably longer chapter. I felt bad. As usual, thank you for reading and please review! Reviews are very much appreciated, especially constructive criticism.