Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling in association with Scholastic Books, Warner Bros, etc.

Author's Notes: This was written for the Dramione Couples Remix Fest with the prompt Hades and Persephone. It will be extended for two more chapters. The title is a reference to the song in Disney's Pocahontas entitled "Savages," specifically the line, "How loud are the drums of war?" The answer to that question, of course, is: deafening.

It began in September on an autumn day that felt like spring.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were out by the lake enjoying the weather. Wispy clouds floated in the bright blue sky. A warm breeze swept through the grass and sent ripples across the lake. Harry scribbled a half-formed sentence for his assignment before his eyes wandered over to a burgeoning Quidditch match several yards away. Ron was stretched out on his back, ignoring his work in favor of a midday nap. New freckles appeared, splashed across his face like raindrops as he slept in the sun. Hermione sat close to Harry underneath the shade of the tree as she worked on the proposed prefect schedule for the year. She'd been ecstatic when the Head Girl asked her to draw up the list after coming down with a stress-induced fever. Hermione saw it as a golden opportunity for practice when she becomes Head Girl next year and had been working on it for the better part of the morning. Sunlight peeked through the foliage and sprinkled across her parchment as she struggled to work out the partners and the shifts for the semester. If only she could figure out how to pair off the last group of students and which pair would patrol the dungeons.

The shade receded as the sun continued on its path until it felt as if a spotlight had suddenly dropped on her. Pleasantly warmed by the sun, she looked up squinting and sighed when she saw Harry sleeping with his head pillowed in his arms. There was a bright flash in her peripherals and she turned, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of the snitch flitting around.

It was no snitch.

Draco Malfoy stood leaning against the castle wall, half cloaked in shadow and half illuminated in daylight. The light reflecting off of his white blond hair and fair complexion created an unnatural brightness around him, contrasting drastically against his dark robes. It was all he seemed to wear lately: black clothes and a gloomy expression. It was as if he was perpetually in mourning.

It also seemed as if he was staring at her.

Hermione couldn't be sure due to the distance, but she could almost feel the weight of his regard. What made it even stranger was the absence of a sneer wrinkling his face. There was no contempt or animosity. He was just…looking. She met his stare, twirling her wand for good measure too. And in spite of the distance between them—him standing alone in the shadows and her sitting in the sunlight surrounded by friends—she could have sworn he smiled. Maybe.

He turned and ducked out of the light, melding seamlessly into the darkness before slipping inside the castle. The light caught on something near his collar and it winked brightly at her. A gust of wind blew by and Hermione closed her eyes enjoying the way it cooled her slightly overheated skin. The leaves rustled above her head.

Deciding to return inside, she roused the boys from their nap. Ron grumbled and rolled out of her reach, determined to remain unconscious. Harry squinted and slowly sat up, straightening his glasses.

"You've got ink stains on your cheek." Hermione tsked, rubbing it off with her thumb.

"You've got a leaf in your hair." Harry responded sleepily, pulling it out to show her. It was a rich green color near the stem that decayed into a murky yellow near the tips. Harry flicked it away and stretched. Hermione was packing her things in her bag when she spotted Draco Malfoy's unpaired name on her parchment. She quickly scribbled "Dungeons" next to his name and assigned a fifth year Gryffindor as his partner.

xxx

October winds came chilly and cluttered with fallen leaves.

Hermione spotted him near the edges of the Forbidden Forest. She left the castle half an hour ago, hoping a long walk would dispel some of her frustration with Harry and that potions book. She couldn't understand how he could trust in something that was so obviously dark magic, not to mention a complete violation of school rules. He was cheating. She gritted her teeth together. It was completely unfair. While everyone else earned their grades with hours and hours of work, Harry just coasted by on those margin notes and he didn't see anything wrong with it! Her anger vanished when she caught sight of a dark figure standing near the edges of the woods. She took several steps back, heart pounding in her chest so fiercely her scar ached. Hermione began to make a hasty retreat when she noticed the familiar head white blond hair.

Malfoy stood tensely, staring deep into woods with narrowed, contemplating eyes as if waiting for someone to arrive. It was jarring to see him there against the backdrop of trees bursting with reds, golds, coppers, and greens. He was so devoid of colors after all. It was like he was a specter that wandered the grounds instead of a living student attending Hogwarts. Suddenly, as if sensing her presence, he turned his head and caught her gaze. There was no way for her to escape without it looking like he frightened her away. And she wasn't afraid, at least not of him, so she stood her ground as he moved closer until there was only twenty feet between them: a dueling distance.

"Malfoy," Hermione greeted coolly, a little unnerved by focus in his silvered eyes. She tilted her chin up as she casually slipped a hand inside her robes, fingers brushing along her wand just in case. "Don't you know it's rude to stare?"

His lips curled into a devious smile. "Rumor has it that you missed a perfect score on your O.W.L.s, Granger. Slipping are we?"

"Well by that logic, I haven't heard a thing about your scores so you must've done abysmally," she snarled. "Now if you're done ruining my day, I must be off."

"Sources also say that you only got an E for Defense Against the Dark Arts too," he continued unfazed, stepping into her path as she tried to walk around him. "Given your status and the current political atmosphere, shouldn't that be the only thing you learn to do competently?"

"I did just fine. Would you like a demonstration?"

"Just fine isn't going to help you very much." He paused for a moment, head tilted with an air of consideration. Her grip tightened on her wand. "But I think I can."

Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"I can teach you how to properly defend yourself."

Laughter escaped her before she could stop it. "Have you lost your mind? Why would I take anything you have to offer? Even if I needed any help, I already have a more than capable teacher."

"Oh really?" Malfoy stepped closer with a disbelieving smirk. She defiantly stood her ground, unwilling to be moved. "Would he really have anything worthwhile to teach you? Would he teach you everything he knows or would he hold back, afraid he might actually hit you?" he circled her slowly. She turned her head to keep him in her sight. "Will he use the Unforgivables?"

"Of course not! That's illegal." Hermione hissed.

"Oh Granger," he huffed in a condescending lilt. "That's the kind of thinking that'll get you killed." He leaned in close to her ear, as if to whisper a dirty little secret. "Nothing is off limits in war."

The wind picked up, blowing the leaves off the ground and swirling it around them. A chill ran down her spine as she tensed. It was the first time anyone confirmed it out loud. There were always signs—the Order's preparations, the prophesy, Harry's entire life—but no one wanted to say it. The fact that it was Malfoy of all people, the same boy who took cover behind his family's name and never stayed long enough to see the consequences of anything, made her give him a second look.

"You're suggesting that I should accept your offer to hurl Unforgivables at me?"

"Among other things, yes."

"Do you really think I'll allow it?"

"I think you need some time to really consider it before making any decisions. Think about it. Who better to learn about the dark arts from than from me?"

"You mean from the son of a Death Eater currently rotting away in Azkaban?" she challenged, meeting his glare.

"Mind your manners," he murmured dangerously close to her face before pulling away. "You know where to find me." He walked off, leaving her alone with goosebumps on her skin and questions in her head.

xxx

November burned: scorched black trunks, red-orange leaves, ashen skies.

Everything seemed to burn under the same hot anger that flared beneath her skin. Hermione flung her quill down and shoved her book away from her in frustration. She quickly gathered her things before stomping off toward her room. She wasn't speaking to Ron or Harry after the debacles of Ron's new relationship and Harry's mean trick with the Felix Felicis potion. Although Harry seemed apologetic, explaining that he thought it would get them talking again, she couldn't help but question his logic. The only talking that occurred was yelling. And Ron! He continued to be as insufferable as ever, rubbing his luck-free victory in her face. Worst of all, he was flaunting his relationship with Lavender in her face.

Well fine. She wasn't his keeper. He could do whatever he pleased, even if that meant he surrounded himself with people willing to inflate his already fat head. It's not like she was worried about him or anything. It's not like she thought he'd be poisoned for taking too much of that potion. After all, Harry wasn't known for his exact measurements and attention to detail before his stupid book came along to help him. It's not like she hexed McLaggen so he would get a spot on the team. It's not like she spent most of her summer expecting him to ask her out. Of course not. That would've been nothing but a supreme waste of her valuable time.

Hermione threw her bag down and flung herself on her bed, letting out a frustrated scream into her pillow. They were idiots. Stupid, stupid boys. She wasn't going to spend any more time thinking about them. They clearly weren't thinking about her. All they cared about this year were Quidditch games, Lavender Brown, and Draco Malfoy.

She sat up. Harry had been insistent that Malfoy was up to something. While she didn't believe Malfoy was a Death Eater, it wouldn't hurt to do a little digging on her own. While the others got distracted with kissing girls and cheating in class, she could at least get to the bottom of what Malfoy really wanted with her and just what had kept him busy enough to actually drop Quidditch altogether. It would be a good distraction and she had been given the perfect opportunity to do it.

After she parted ways with her patrol partner that night, she slipped inside an empty classroom on the second floor to wait. He was already there, lounging on a chair next to the window.

"Are you going to give me detention, Granger?" he asked with a smirk, holding up the note she sent him during dinner.

"I'm off duty," she replied flatly. "Does your offer still stand?"

"It does."

"Why?"

"Because I have infinite amounts of patience."

She couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. A small part of her wondered if he was really joking with her. "No, why are you trying to help me? It's not like I'm your favorite person or anything. We both know how you feel about me."

"How I feel about you?" he drawled, standing up and walking over to her. "While it's true that I don't think your kind is fit to serve my house elves, much less learn magic from our schools, and that I find your know-it-all personality unbearable, I'm willing to overlook all of that for the sake of…school unity."

"School unity?" Hermione repeated skeptically, unfazed by his insults. She'd heard much worse from him in the past. "Let's say I believe you. Now, out of everyone in this school, why choose me?"

"War is coming, Granger," he said with a serious glint in his eyes. "No one will say it because they're cowering under Dumbledore's protection, but he's just one man. He can't be there for everyone and he won't be around forever. You need to prepare yourself."

"I am perfectly capable of fighting my own battles," she snapped, clenching her hands to stop them from shaking. "I was there at the Ministry that night and—"

"—and you were taken out," he finished with a sneer. "A hex to the chest because you weren't paying attention, too busy trying to congratulate Potter on finally casting a spell correctly. You're lucky to be alive."

"How do you know that?" Hermione asked sharply, fear creeping up her spine. This was a mistake. Perhaps Harry had been right all along.

"Like you said, I'm the son of an incarcerated Death Eater." He was closer now, just like the last time, slowly invading her personal space. "I hear things."

"Care to be a little more specific?"

"What I hear regarding political motivations doesn't concern you." He leaned away from her and stepped back. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "What I know about defensive spells, however, concerns you very much. We'll need to get started immediately if you're to make any progress at all."

"I didn't agree to anything yet."

"You agreed to everything the moment you asked to meet with me."

Hermione bit her lips. "Why are you doing this?" she asked finally.

"If Potter manages to win—"

"You mean when he wins it." Hermione corrected fiercely. Any other outcome was unthinkable.

"Well that's good because you'll be my pardon."

She stilled, sensing a trap being laid out for her. "Your pardon for what, exactly?"

"War is not a pretty thing," he answered neutrally, meeting her suspicious eyes without flinching. "I'm going to do what I must in order to keep those I care about safe. I trust you share the same sentiment?"

She understood. They were loyal to different things. It didn't mean she trusted him though. He skirted around all of her questions like an expert politician, manipulating her to agree to his plan and leaving her with no concrete answers. This would require more time than she anticipated.

"Agreed," she warily held out her hand.

He scoffed in amusement. "You want to shake on it? It's hardly an Unbreakable Vow." Nevertheless, he firmly shook her hand once and released it. "We'll work out the details soon. Keep an eye out for mail during breakfast tomorrow." As he headed for the door, he tucked his head close to hers and whispered, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go wash my hands. They've seemed to have gotten a little dirty recently."

Bright, hot anger rushed in her veins but he was gone by the time she turned around. He made himself perfectly clear. Malfoy would teach her some defensive spells to use for an alibi, but to him she would always be the same unworthy muggle girl. Fine. She'd play along, and once she had the information she wanted, she'd show him just how good she was at self-defense.

xxx

December came quietly with snow. If Hermione looked out of her window, she'd see the remnants of fall: ash-gray skies and bare-black branches.

He waited for her at the bottom of the staircase leading up to the Gryffindor tower, trading sharp grins for every dirty look he received from her House. When he saw Hermione descending the stairs, he turned to the prefect trembling next to him. "You're free to go."

The fifth year quickly escaped to the portrait hole, giving Hermione a thankful and sympathetic look as he passed her. Hermione glared at Malfoy. "What did you do to him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. This partner switch gives us the perfect opportunity to start our tutoring sessions without suspicion," he said lightly, still amused by the prefect's exit. "He's quite the runner though, don't you think?"

"How did you even find out where our entrance is?"

"The better question is how do I know your password."

She turned her head sharply. "You know the password?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"It makes me annoyed. Now I have to go through the hassle of having it changed and letting every single Gryffindor know."

They crossed the castle in silence, speaking only to inform straggling students that curfew was starting soon and that they should make their way back to the dormitories. Suddenly the entrance to the dungeons loomed ahead, dark and cool, with only the occasional torch to light the way. Even though she'd walked these steps hundreds of times to get to Potions class and even though everything looked the same—day or night—since there were no windows in this part of the castle, still, knowing that it was night made it look vast and foreboding. She felt as if she might not come out, or come out a different person. It was terrifying.

A wisp of air floated near her ear. "Scared, Granger?"

She narrowed her eyes and gathered her nerves. "You wish."

They walked down the spiraling staircase, their steps echoing off the stone walls. Their shadows moved in a fractured dance along the curved walls in the flickering firelight. Hermione felt the cold seep through her clothes. He led them past classrooms and down winding halls, turn after turn until she couldn't remember the way back out.

She was lost. How deep did the dungeons run?

Finally they came across a door to the left with brass hinges. Inside there were several desks pushed against the left wall. She spotted an empty fireplace and conjured up a blue flame inside of it, bathing the room in a soft blue glow. It was a standard classroom size with relatively high ceilings that would cause an echoing effect.

Click.

Hermione spun around to see Malfoy cast a silencing spell before casually leaning against the locked door, wand held loosely in his hand.

"A safety precaution. We don't want my house to know about our activities," he explained easily.

"Speaking of which, why haven't we run into any of them? The dungeons are notorious for giving prefects a hard time about curfew."

"They obey the right people."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "The right people?"

"People with power," he clarified with a sharp smile.

"Did you tell them to stay—?"

"Let's get started." He pushed off the door and widened his stand. She instinctively did the same. "Show me what you can do."

They spent the next two weeks meeting in that room during patrol, testing each other's strengths and weaknesses. Spells flashed and crackled out of wand tips and sizzled against hastily casted shields. He unbuttoned his collar and she tied her hair up out of the way when it got too hot. Cloaks and ties were often discarded during duels.

One day, after he called for a break, she wiped the sweat from her head and patted her singed hair. The worst of her injuries was a tender ankle when she moved too slowly to avoid stinging jinx aimed at her feet. All in all, she thought she did pretty well.

"Decent spell work and you are fairly good at dodging the ones you can't deflect. It reminds me of a rat scurrying behind crates for safety," he remarked. She gritted her teeth together and suppressed a snarl. "How about a quiz? What is the best defense against an Unforgivable?

She tilted her head up with a smug grin. "That's a trick question. There is nothing that can deflect Unforgivables. The only defense is to get out of the way."

"10 points to Gryffindor." A ball of red light shot out of his wand. "Crucio."

Pain, unlike any she'd ever felt, exploded in her veins and lit every nerve on fire. Spots of light appeared behind her closed eyelids. There was the distinct taste of lightning on her tongue, scorching her throat and rattling her teeth. He was killing her.

It lasted for what seemed like days before the pain lifted and she came back to her senses. She was on the ground with tears dripping from her eyes, emitting small whimpers and pants. Her body shuddered uncontrollably as her muscles slowly relaxed from their tense state.

"Five seconds." Malfoy said. The tips of his shiny black shoes came into view. Hot anger flared over her skin. "How long did that feel, Granger? It couldn't have been pleasant." His knees cracked as he bent down to look her in the face. "What are you going to do about it?"

I'm going to kill you.

"H-how could you…" Hermione sputtered, frustrated that her tongue was too heavy to use.

"Easily," he answered, silver eyes hovering over her. "We're about to be part of the war that crippled the wizarding world almost twenty years ago. I can and will do whatever it takes to ensure that I live through it. What about you? What will you do?"

"Going to…report you," she mumbled through her clenched jaw. What she lacked in motor function, she made up for in the fury glowing in her eyes.

He scoffed and stood up. "That's not good enough." He stepped over her uncooperative body and she wished she had the strength to trip him. "I just tortured you and you want to report me to the Headmaster? You need to stop thinking like a stupid little elf enslaved to the rules and regulations of order and peace and start thinking like a soldier. There are people out there who will hunt you. If they catch you, you're going to die slowly and painfully. Get up," he lifted her by the shoulders and pinned her against a wall, "and start fighting back."

Hermione hissed in pain, and slid down until she hit the floor. She clutched her hand over the scar on her chest as it throbbed angrily. When the tremors faded, she slowly got to her feet and faced him. He stood several feet away with her wand in his hand. It didn't matter. She'd take him down with her bare hands.

He threw her wand at her feet. "Start taking these meetings seriously." Malfoy demanded. "You're wasting my time if you think this is just some second year duel."

She snatched her wand up. "You despicable little roach." Her wand flashed through the air and he went tumbling into the tables and chairs. "Don't think you're going to get away with pulling a stunt like that." She stormed to the door, intent on paying Dumbledore a visit. "Be thankful you're a minor and you'll only face expulsion rather than a trip to Azkaban. A shame really, you could have spent some quality time with your father again."

A strong force knocked her away from the door and back against the wall. When she caught her breath, she saw him blocking the door with his wand raised at her. Her arm snapped up and she pointed her wand at him.

"Do you really think that Potter's the only one you have to worry about?" he asked with quiet anger. She stilled. "You're the only reason that idiot isn't dead yet and the others will figure that out soon enough. Do you really think that if they catch you, they're going to hold back? You'll suffer hours under the Cruciatus Curse. They're going to leave you in pieces for Potter and Weasley to find unless you focus on protecting yourself for a change."

He was right. She knew he was right, but it didn't stem her anger and humiliation from being blindsided with an Unforgivable. "Why?" she demanded in a strained voice. "Tell me why you used it on me. Why couldn't you just say that to me from the beginning? Did you get a kick out of torturing the unworthy little muggleborn?"

"Aversion therapy. I did it to give you a small taste of what it could be like if you get caught." There was no hint of deceit in his face. He was telling the truth. "Now you'll do whatever it takes to avoid feeling that kind of pain. It will make your body dodge faster and it will make your aim truer. You need to stop aiming to disarm and start aiming to kill."

"I don't kill. I'm not like you."

"Then you're going to die. Those are your choices, Granger."

The tension crackled between them. Finally, she lowered her wand. "We'll see about that."

Warily, he lowered his wand too. It was almost time for them to leave. "You still have a lot of work to do. Stay over the break. Most of the castle will be empty."

She wanted to laugh in his face, scream at him, hex his eyes out of their sockets. He was mental if he thought she'd do anything he ever said again. Instead, she stormed out of the room and blindly stumbled along until she found the staircase leading out of the dungeons. However, even as she crawled under her covers, safe in the tower far away from him, Hermione knew it wasn't over.

She declined the invitation to spend the holidays at the Burrow. She told her parents she was staying at school to work on a project. When the last group of students left on the carriages, her feet led her to the dungeons entrance. In the Great Hall, professors were charming Christmas bulbs onto the tree and pine-scented wreaths over the doors. Taking a deep breath, she went in one step at a time until she was engulfed in shadows.

xxx

End of Fall Semester