Year of the Dragon

Draco was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling of his dorm room. He had been more than a little shocked to see Granger's little prophecy, and he'd read it thoroughly despite the short amount of time he'd spent looking at it. He got the gist of it. It explained so much to him, like why Voldemort and his father had always been so insistent that he follow the Dark Arts, and why his initiation had been scheduled for so soon. "They suspected. Even before the Potter incident they suspected, somehow." And Granger was trying to get him to...what? He sat up with that thought. What had she been playing at? Trying to save the world by showing Draco that he was destined to bring about the ultimate rise of Voldemort and fall of all that is good? "She certainly wasn't trying to save me," Draco sighed bitterly. Not that he wanted her to try. Malfoys didn't need help. Then why are you sitting here, wishing you were dead? a voice asked amusedly. "I don't wish I were dead. I wish I'd never been born."

He stood up began to pace back and forth. "Granger...she's a real do-gooder. She'd do anything to stop Voldemort from rising in power. She showed that when she approached me," he added with a chuckle. "She'll never give up anyways." That decided Draco, (or at least that's what he liked to think). Tomorrow, he would approach the pretty (where did that come from?) Mudblood and ask for her opinion on that prophecy. They would figure out some way to 'save the world', and as far as Draco could tell, that meant getting Draco out of his initiation somehow. "Perfect," he sighed. He made his way to the Great Hall for dinner and tried not to think what would happen if Granger couldn't think of something.

Hermione was sprawled out on her stomach on top of her bed, the old prophecy book opened to Draco's page in front of her. Malfoy had most definitely not been himself tonight, and that scared Hermione. When she'd found him sitting there, alone, he hadn't seemed as together as he usually was. He'd seemed....depressed, there was no doubt about it. Hermione knew the signs, having spent much time depressed herself. Nobody knew that though, and nobody would ever suspect that perfect Prefect Hermione Granger would get sick of her reputation, sick of people seeing her as a human encyclopedia. She knew she was no longer an ugly girl, ever since her hair had smoothed itself out and she'd had Madam Pomfrey fix her teeth, but did anyone ever notice? No. So she got depressed.

And that's the same emotion that had been written all over Draco Malfoy tonight. He hadn't even insulted her properly. He'd been annoying, and he called her a Mudblood, but his heart hadn't been in it. The prophecy hadn't affected him much at all, she realized. The only thing that had gotten a reaction out of him was when Hermione had told him to go ahead and be a Death Eater. What had he said? Something about Slytherins not wanting what they got?

"Hey Hermione!" Ron called from the stairway.

"Yeah?"

"Come on down! Me and Harry are gonna hang out in the common room until it's time for dinner." Hermione called that she would and made her way downstairs. Besides, she wanted to tell them about her meeting with Malfoy.

"Hey 'Mione....what's wrong with you?" Ron asked, scrunching up his face to show her how awful she looked. She sighed: Ron was completely tactless.

"I had a little chat with Malfoy today." Harry 'ohed' knowingly.

"When was this?"

"Just a half hour ago. I, er, tripped over him in the hall." Harry and Ron exchanged startled glances.

"He didn't hex you, did he?" Ron asked hotly. Hermione grinned.

"No, actually....for Malfoy, he was rather civil. He told me to sod off a couple times. Then I pulled out the prophecy book and got him to look at it." Harry looked like he was holding his breath.

"And?" he said.

"He laughed. He thought it was pretty funny that somebody a thousand years ago had thought him good looking enough to put on paper." Ron made a face.

"Tell me you didn't just say Malfoy was good looking!?" he asked in horror. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I did not say it, I said he said it. Besides, he is good looking. Ask any girl at Hogwarts. It just so happens that he's an intolerable git, that's all," she replied, enjoying the look on Ron's face. Harry laughed.

"Hermione, stop torturing Ron!" She smiled.

"Sorry Ron. Anyways, he completely ignored me after that, and started to walk away. So I told him to go ahead and be a Death Eater, and get himself killed. He, he didn't like that very much."

"Did he touch you?" asked Ron dangerously. Exasperated with Ron's protectiveness, Hermione shook her head 'no'.

"No, I told you already. He was relatively civilized. All he did was," Hermione had been about to tell them what he said about Slytherins not wanting what they got, but something stopped her. It just seemed like it was none of their business. "He told me if I ever bothered him again he'd kill me. But he didn't actually do anything, he just left."

"Well, we're obviously dead then," Ron moaned. "He probably was tickled pink to see that prophecy. He'll rush to the owlery and send word to Voldemort himself that Draco Malfoy will mean the difference between failure and success for the Dark Side." Harry nodded. Hermione disagreed.

"No, I really don't think so. He wasn't acting smug at all. He just seemed grouchy, and a little bit upset. That is, he was upset when I got there." Ron and Harry dismissed this bit of news, and Hermione found herself getting irritated. If I don't find it in a book, they completely ignore me! she fumed.

"Well, I'm going to dinner now," she said hotly, storming out of the common room. Harry and Ron turned back to their conversation completely unaware of her mood.

The next day was a Saturday, and Hermione thought it was the perfect opportunity to get an early start on her Potions essay. She was deeply involved reading about the many uses of skwert pus, when she sensed somebody watching her. She lowered the book to peer over it, then dropped it with an 'oh!'. Sitting across from her, smirking, was Draco Malfoy. Hermione felt her face redden, and Draco's grin broadened.

"What do you want Malfoy?" she asked angrily, although truth be told she was genuinely curious. Draco took a deep breath, and to Hermione's astonishment his face lost its usual smugness.

"I wanted to have another look at that bloody prophecy, if you still have it on you," he said, looking like it was killing him not to call her Mudblood. Hermione eyed him warily.

"Why?" Draco's face remained impassive, but the tips of his ears darkened with anger.

"Why? How about because it's my prophecy? Or is that not a good enough reason for a Mudblood like you?" Hermione stood up abruptly and began to pack up her things. Draco cursed himself under his breath.

"Okay! Wait! I'm, er, sorry," he mumbled so that the words were barely recognizable. Hermione heard him though, and found herself grinning. It had obviously been very difficult for him to say. She couldn't remember Malfoy ever apologizing before. She sat down, and there was an uncomfortable silence for a couple of minutes. Then, she spoke.

"So you've decided you don't want to die?" she asked. "And you think I can figure something out? Is that it, Malfoy?" Draco, not quite sure how to handle the situation, put a smirk on his face.

"Well Granger," he drawled, "Either that or I just enjoy your company." Hermione scowled, looking frighteningly like Professor McGonagall.

"I'm serious Malfoy! You're the one who wanted to talk! If I'm wrong, tell me. I don't have time for your sarcasm."

"Ya, you're right. You're too busy being taken advantage of by Potty and the Weasel." To Draco's surprise, she cringed. Oh, I've hit a nerve, have I?

"They don't take advantage of me. I'm their friend, and I'm glad to help them as much as I can," she said unconvincingly. Draco shrugged.

"Hey, you don't have to explain yourself to me," he said matter-of-factly. Hermione looked at him with something anyone other than Draco Malfoy would have recognized as gratefulness.

"Thankyou," she whispered. Draco raised his eyebrows, wondering what on earth she was thanking him for.

"Er, okay," he replied uncomfortably. Hermione regarded him curiously.

"You aren't used to being thanked, are you?" Draco scowled at her.

"Look, I'm not supposed to be on trial here. I came to you because I've decided that being a Death Eater won't be nearly as much fun as they want me to think it is, and I know that you would love to save the world. So I've got a deal for you: we work together under a truce not to hex each other until we've worked out a way to make sure I don't bring about the end of the world. It's that simple. Besides," he said leaning back lazily, "You'd get to work with me for a bit. What could be more fun than that?" Hermione found herself torn between her dislike and distrust of Malfoy and her desire to prevent Voldemort from rising in power. Draco watched her out of the corner of his eye, trying very hard to appear indifferent. She sighed.

"I don't trust you." Draco jerked his head up indignantly, his normally smooth brow furrowed.

"Well that was just bloody rude!" Hermione looked at him, wide-eyed, then burst out laughing. "What is so funny?" he demanded. Hermione was now giggling hysterically and clutching at her stomach.

"Oh, Malfoy! That was the funniest thing you could have said."

"Why? Because there is no way that Draco Malfoy has any sense at all of what is rude and what isn't? I make fun of you lot, no more than you do me I might add, and so that makes me completely without couth?" Hermione, taken aback by his anger, muttered an apology. "Whatever," he replied, "Just tell me your answer. If you want Voldemort to kill millions of Muggles and Mudbloods then tell me to sod off. If not, work with me. Your choice Granger."

"But I already told you: I don't trust you. How do I know I can trust you? How do I know this isn't part of some highly malicious plot?" Draco looked thoughtful for a minute, then shrugged.

"Malfoys don't lie," he said simply. Hermione couldn't believe it. He was looking at her, appearing uncharacteristically innocent, and expecting that statement to solve everything.

"How do I know that that means anything?" she asked.

"Come on Granger. Think about it. I would never dishonor my family name. I'd probably be killed for it." Hermione started at this.

"You can't be serious!" she burst. He looked very serious indeed.

"Of course I can be. You've met my father." She realized that he was serious: Lucius Malfoy was a horrible man. He'd set Tom Riddle loose on Ginny Weasley without a second thought in Second Year. She found herself nodding.

"Okay. But if we do this, we have to trust each other. I have to know you aren't lying to me, and you have to know that I'm not going to run to Dumbledore with anything you tell me." Draco was shocked by her bluntness.

"Obviously. I don't think you will do that though. And other than that I don't see why I should trust you. We'll be working under mutual gain. That's the stuff real trust is made of." Hermione cringed at this harsh explanation of such a wonderful thing.

"I wouldn't say that. I trust lots of people who have nothing to gain by being truthful and honest with me." Draco sniffed.

"Well, not everybody can afford to trust so foolishly."

"I am not a fool, Draco Malfoy."

"Whatever. Look, do we have a deal?" Hermione paused, then reached across the table and shook his hand. It was shockingly cold, like ice.

"Your hands are freezing!" she exclaimed. Draco laughed slightly, and for the first time Hermione could find no cruelty in it. So this is what it's like to be on Malfoy's good side, she mused.

"Ya, when you're as cold blooded as me you tend to get cold hands." Hermione wasn't sure he was joking.

"Hmm," was all she said. "So, first I need to know how, er, far along you are with...everything." Draco watched her, feeling more amused than he'd felt in a long time. She was trying to bring up a topic she was completely uncomfortable with. He kept his face stoic. Hermione thought not for the last time that his eyes were the scariest things she'd ever seen, even if they were beautiful.

"Maybe we should go somewhere a little bit more private to discuss these things, Granger?" he whispered. She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, Merlin Granger! This is not going to turn out to be some creepy elaborate plan to snog with you! I just don't want to discuss things that could get me expelled in the middle of the library." Hermione blushed.

"Of course, sorry. Well, follow me then. We can go down to the dungeons. There is one I go to a lot...and if you start using it for snogging sessions with Pansy Parkinson, I'll kill you, truce or no!" Draco made a gagging sound.

"ME? Snogging with PARKINSON?! You've got to be kidding!" He cried as she started towards the dungeons.

"What, she too good for you?" Hermione asked, grinning. Draco looked at her warily.

"Honestly, Granger. Give me some more credit than that. Would any guy as good looking as me ever do anything with Pansy?" Much to Draco's amusement Hermione turned beet red. "Obviously not," he chuckled.

Draco was impressed with their new study dungeon, and Hermione found herself pleased After they sat down and Hermione had a fire going, she began to feel a bit nervous. Here she was, in a dungeon nobody but she knew about, with her worst enemy. Draco must have sensed her thoughts because he sighed.

"Look, if you can't be in the same room as me without getting all jittery we might as well forget this. I don't know what I'm doing here in the first place."

"NO! No, I'm sorry. It's just...we're enemies. It's weird."

"Well, we aren't enemies now. Truce, right?" Hermione smiled at him.

"Ya, truce. Okay, I'm going to come out and say it right now: Are you a Death Eater?" Draco grinned.

"Why don't you check for yourself?" Hermione, who's body knew nothing other than Draco Malfoy was very sexy and sitting right across from her, did not want to let herself lift his sleeve. Not that she was scared. Certainly not.

"Er, I'd rather not. We need to work on the whole trust thing anyways." Draco shrugged.

"I'm not a Death Eater." He watched as Hermione pretended to be satisfied with this, then pulled up his left sleeve and got Hermione's attention. She smiled with relief: nothing but a very toned forearm.

"Right. Er," Draco interrupted.

"Okay, I'll tell you what you need to know, which isn't much. Don't think we're going to get all chummy, switching childhood tales like girls at a slumber party."

"I wouldn't want to hear your tales anyways, Malfoy," Hermione replied icily, catching him somewhat off-guard.

"Of course. Well, You know I can do the whole wandless magic thing. That part of the prophecy is covered. And, my Dad has raised me to be a Death Eater ever since I can remember. There. Now, how do we stop that from happening?"

"Why don't you want to be a Death Eater then? You've been raised to be one, you said so yourself." Draco started to tell her it was none of her business, but her big brown eyes were so honest looking, he found himself giving an honest response.

"I want to be in control of my own life."

"Is that it?" she looked disappointed.

"I don't want to hurt people." Draco sat upright, shocked at what he'd just said. He was even more shocked to realize that he meant it. "I mean," he felt his face redden, "Er--" Hermione was staring at Draco like she'd never seen him before.

"You really don't, do you?" Draco did not like where this was going. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"What else do you need to know, Granger?" She sighed.

"Well, How long until the initiation? How long do we have? They won't want you until after graduation, right?" Draco stiffened, and his face became unreadable again.

"November."

"November?!"

"Is there a bloody echo in here Granger? Yes, November 13^th to be exact." Hermione had no clue why she did it, but she found herself reaching across the table and putting her warm hand on his cold. His eyes shot up to hers. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I'm sorry," she said. Draco knew their position was ridiculous, but found he didn't want her to move her hand. That's why he jumped up.

"I don't need your sympathy, Granger!" he hissed. "I just told you I've been raised for this moment. I don't want your pity." He sat back down uneasily. Hermione looked hurt.

"Fine. I was just trying to be...oh, never mind. Well, that's enough for today. Meet me in the library tomorrow after lunch, okay? We can find some books, then come down here and discuss...whatever there is to discuss." Draco nodded.

"You can't tell Potter and Weasley, you know." Hermione nodded. She hadn't planned on telling them anyways. If there was one condition under which Ron and Harry would disapprove of Hermione stopping Voldemort, it was if she had to work with Malfoy alone in a dungeon to do it. The idea of Ron and Harry helping never crossed her mind.

"I wasn't going to anyways," she replied. Draco found, much to his surprise, that he believed her. They left the dungeon and split up so nobody would see them, each of them going on with their evening as if nothing happened.