Switching sides for love

Chapter 1: Two lost souls

It was the early evening, and Hermione Granger was sat on a windowsill in the library of 12 Grimmauld Place. She sat silently with her arms wrapped tightly around her legs as her head rested on her knees. Sat deep in thought she looked out onto the slowly darkening grassy square that was lightened slightly by dimly lit oil street lamps surrounding its perimeter. How long she had been sat there, she did not know.

What she did know was that the Wizarding World was darkening, Lord Voldemort was back, and his followers were acting in the open ever since the battle of the Department of Mysteries eight weeks ago. Of course, she had known that Voldemort was back before then. Voldemort had used Harry's blood a year before to resurrect himself in the graveyard where his muggle father was buried. Many people had lost their lives at the hands of the deranged half-blood and his Death Eaters during the first wizarding war.

She could feel the tension mounting, the Wizarding World was on the brink of war, and it wasn't a matter of if but rather when the inevitable war would come to pass. In a way the war had already started; Cedric Diggory was dead as was Sirius Black. Members of the public both Muggle and Wizard alike had begun to disappear or die in mysterious ways. Mr Weasley had said that this was how the last war started.

She was going back to Hogwarts tomorrow like all the other good children. How was she meant to deal with school when the war was imminent? Mrs Weasley treated them like children. However, the truth is that when this war comes to pass both her, Harry and Ron will be fighting on the front line just as they had been since their first year when Quirrell had been possessed by Voldemort.

It didn't matter that they were about to start their Sixth Year of magical education. Dumbledore's Armey would fight right alongside the Order of the Phoenix and anyone else willing to fight against the darkness.

In Wiltshire another 16-year-old sat looking out at the slowly darkening skyline, tears slowly running down his face as his body shuck silently. He was unnaturally pale with hollow cheeks and dark, heavy bags under his bloodshot eyes. Draco Malfoy had not had a good summer.

At the end of the last term, his father had been arrested when he was discovered to be a Death Eater in The Department of Mysteries. His father was now locked away in Azkaban Prison. In punishment for his father's failure; Voldemort had taken up residence in Malfoy Manor and given Draco an impossible suicide mission.

Draco was to kill Professor Dumbledore, or Voldemort would kill him and his family. Draco didn't care much for his father but his mother was the only person to show him love, and he didn't want her to be killed. Draco didn't want to kill Dumbledore; the single man Voldemort had ever feared, but he would find a way to do it to save his mother.

On the off chance, he succeeded with his task; he had been branded with the mark that marred the forearm of his father and so many of Voldemort's followers. Draco didn't want to be a Death Eater; if he could, he'd take his mum and run.

He didn't believe in blood supremacy; Granger had changed his views on the topic if Purebloods were better how was it that she beat him at every test and duel? He had seen Muggles tortured by death eaters and their blood was just as red as his.

Draco would never tell anyone this, of course, he had to survive and to do this he had to keep up the pretence of been evil. The only hope he had was that the other side took care of Voldemort quickly, but until then he had no choice but to follow the snake's orders and try to stay alive.