Chapter One: Turncoat

turncoat (n.) - a person who deserts one party or cause to join an opposing one

Nerves.

Draco had grown quite use to them after service to the Death Eaters for such a long period of time. Every painstaking moment was filled with anticipation and fear. Keeping his thoughts blocked out of both their heads and his own, remaining a good actor.

Acting was growing tiring. Acting was growing to be nearly impossible.

There just wasn't enough fear left in him to keep him motivated. There wasn't his deranged aunt, there wasn't Voldemort, there wasn't anyone. The only thing left were the idiots left with their same prejudiced belief system.

The Death Eaters had no leader anymore. Voldemort's downfall had shaken them greatly. All they could was frighten, not dominate. They had no way of doing anything else. There was no authority figure; no guidance. Draco's father was the closest thing to guidance they had.

Ah, his father. What was there for him to say about him? Every part of him made a powerful surge of hatred shoot through Draco's body. He had murdered Draco's mother; The one thing in his life that he had left to hold onto. But now, there was nothing. Only his hatred left for the man he had once admired, and the nostalgia for the times before the Dark Lord's return, was left to hold onto.

Not even his beliefs against Muggleborns sustained. There wasn't an ounce of prejudice left in his barely existent heart. Somewhere during the Battle of Hogwarts Draco had realized this truth. Somewhere during the Battle of Hogwarts, he had figured out that I was fighting for the wrong side.

Three years it had been. Three years, five months and eleven days since Voldemort's downfall.

Everyone had expected that after Voldemort was finished, there would be peace. They were wrong. Draco always knew they were. Heartless bastards were not going to give up simply because one of their leaders was done for; especially in a room full of power hungry Slytherins, all eager to take the Dark Lord's place.

It was on that third year, fifth month, and eleventh day that Draco decided to run. Run like the coward he was; The coward he always had been. Run from the violence, torment, and oppression he was in. Run to fight for what he now believed in. Run for it was what any sane man would do. So run he did. He pulled out his ornate peacock feather quill and began to scrawl out a note, grabbing my owl and attaching it to its foot "Take this to Harry Potter" he said, stroking his owl before opening the window.

.

.

Draco couldn't help but pace back and forth across the room, arms crossed behind his back. Any second now. Three words that kept repeating in his head.

He couldn't help but be afraid, either. The bitter foreshadow of rejection was looming over his head like a cloud before a storm.

His grey eyes snapped to the fireplace when there was a footstep, which indeed there he was. Potter. Draco's most despised rival from school, his nemesis. The nemesis that wasn't so much of a nemesis at all. He had saved Draco's life. True, Draco despised him. True, Draco would always do so. But Draco respected the man. He defeated his oppressor after so many failed, and gotten him out of trouble.

"Erh - hello," the dark haired wizard greeted him in an awkward tone. It seemed he wasn't the only one uncomfortable with this arrangement. "You wanted to speak with me, I believe?"

He snickered at Potter's attempt to sound businesslike, earning him a scowl. "Yes, I did want to speak with you."

"May I ask why?"

"Explanations first, Potter," the blonde smirked. Potter rolled his eyes. "I'm growing tired and quite frankly bored of being Voldemort's fucking servant. I want out."

"So you're in the mood for some fun, huh? Are the Death Eaters just not cutting it for you?" Potter narrowed his eyes. "Think it would be interesting to see what life in the Order was while going behind our back the way you did after I saved your life in the Battle of Hogwarts? I'm not going to offer you that and you're thick if you -

"War is hardly fun," he interrupted in a loud and firm tone. "War is quite the opposite, actually. I don't say this often, Scarhead, so savor it. You were right. And for once in my life, I was wrong."

"So I see you haven't matured, Malfoy. You're still the same self-righteous Malfoy you were in school."

"Sometimes, seven years of hatred doesn't go away instantaneously. I think you've learned as much seeing that you've already murdered me inside your head."

"I have, many times."

Draco granted himself another well-earned smirk. "Good. But whether I like you and your little cronies or not, I think you're fighting for the better side."

"So what you're saying is that you'd like to fight for the Order?" the dark haired wizard asked, the shock in his voice very poorly hidden, despite his attempt.

"Yes. Something of that sort, I suppose."

"How do I know you're not a spy? How do I know you're not still prejudiced against Muggleborns?"

It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes.

"The fact that I'm here says enough. I'd hardly jump up to volunteer for a mission involving you lot."

"Then why do you want to fight?"

"There are bigger things than old school rivalries," was the blonde's simple reply.

Harry gaped at him. Draco was becoming irritated with the shock running across his rival's face with everything he said.

"I didn't think you of all people would be capable of saying something that isn't shallow."

"Like you're ability to see the best in people?"

Every word emanated exasperation, and if Potter could sense the hostility, he ignored it.

"Would you be prepared to take Veritaserum?" Harry inquired hesitantly.

"Yes."

"The Unbreakable Vow?"

Draco hesitated for a moment. Pledging allegiance to Potter on his life was not a thought he would have usually welcomed but he wanted to fight. He wanted to get back at his father. It took him a moment, but he reminded myself that this commitment was for the cause, not his antagonist.

"Yes," he answered decisively.

"Good. Come with me," Potter gestured to the fireplace from which he had Flooed in. "I'm going to warn you ahead of time that most of the Order members will be less than pleased to see you."

"The feeling will be returned equally, if not more so," Draco drawled.

"One person will be happy to see you, though, I think."

"One of your lot actually is excited to see me?" he arched an eyebrow.

"Blaise. He's been in the Order ever since Voldemort's death."

And it was then that it hit Draco how much everything had altered in the Wizarding World, and how much change was still to come.

.

.

The moment Draco stepped out of the fireplace was the moment that he realized how civil Potter really was being. At least, in comparison to the others.

The She Weasel, Weasel King, and Longbottom were sitting at a table much too long to actually be for four people, discussing an ambush that was planned on the Scottish Highlands. The first one to notice him was the Weaselette, and she looked at him with utter distaste.

"Malfoy? What in the name of Merlin are you doing here?"

It was not even a minute before the predicted glares, murmuring, shouting, and protests rang through the air. He rolled his eyes at their ridiculous overreaction. An outsider might have thought that Voldemort had actually returned inside the tent.

Then he saw her. He saw her coming down the hallway of whatever the hell this building was holding a tray of butterbeers. Brown curls, soft features, big doe eyes, short stature.

It was by all means Hermione Granger.

And then there was a bang. Her tray of drinks fell onto the floor, spilling everywhere. She didn't seem phased by it, and did not acknowledged the broken glass or the butter beer flowing freely across the flat surface of the wood floor. She stood, her teeth clenched, her eyes icy. "Harry I specifically told you not to trust anything that Draco Malfoy had said to you."

"I am in the room. I believe I can explain myself," Draco said loudly.

"Shut it," she snapped, scowling. "Harry, you better explain right this instant."

"You, Ron and Ginny were the only ones who voted against it, Hermione. Majority rule. He's an extra hand and whether you like it or not he's a skilled wizard."

"He is a prejudiced, egoistic, good for nothing, spoiled -

"I get it, you despise me, Granger. Get to the point," he rolled his eyes.

"I AM NOT ADDRESSING YOU, MALFOY. Nor would I ever."

"You just did," he shrugged, in a feigned innocent he knew would cause her anger toward shim to rise. Her rage was an easily acquired source of entertainment, and he was not going to miss out on the opportunity.

She pointed at him, a practically desperate undertone in her look at Potter. "How could you let this happen? You can't possibly trust him after everything he's done to us and to Dumbledore and to everyone in Great Britain!"

"I don't," Harry assured her. "But he's taking the Vow and drinking Veritaserum, Hermione."

"I won't trust him no matter what he does. He's an evil, pathetic excuse for a human being."

"You could at least address me when you insult me. I think you're a haughty know-it-all but at least I can say it to you rather than in the third person to someone else while the person is question is in the room."

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"You need to learn to keep your temper under control, Granger. It's not a good thing to be enraged, even if you are menstruating," Draco drawled lazily.

She glared at him but said nothing in reply, deciding that some battles were not worth fighting, him being one of them.

"Now let's get this business over with. I'm ready," he declared.

.

.

Ah, Veritaserum. The potion that can make anyone feel naked. There is no choice but to tell the truth, even if it is your darkest secrets. Feeling naked in front of those that loathe you isn't particularly pleasant; even if the distaste is mutual.

"Here," said Harry, sliding him a small vile of the clear liquid. "Drink up."

Draco nodded once, and put a small drop on his tongue. He most definitely would prefer to have the red wine everyone else was drinking, but now was not the time to be petty. Even he knew that.

"What's your name?"

"Draco Malfoy," he heard himself say. Being who he was, he felt a burning desire to make a smart remark, but the potion prevented anything but the truth. In his opinion, smart remarks about Potter should be considered the truth by the potion, but still he couldn't seem to get anything of an insulting manner off of his tongue.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"What Hogwarts house were you in?"

"Slytherin."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, clearly trying to think of what to ask first.

"Well, get on with it," he groaned in irritation. "We haven't got all day."

"Why did you serve the Death Eaters in sixth year?" Potter questioned.

He had figured that would be the first question. The one that everyone was dying to know, and that he was most definitely prepared to share.

"By force."

"Did you intend on following through with killing Dumbledore?"

"Not in the slightest," Draco answered.

Potter nodded but Granger looked at him quite skeptically.

The fact Veritaserum was in his serum should have been enough assurance. But sure enough, skeptical she was. She was indisputably the first of their year to know the mechanics of Veritaserum, and yet she was doubting him. Hermione knew it was ridiculous. She knew her views were blinded by hatred. But yet still, she doubted him. And there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"Do you intend on inflicting harm on anyone in our ranks?" she asked.

"No."

"Are you - are you still prejudiced against Muggleborns?" her voice quivered. She had been hoping Harry would be the one to ask this question. It was difficult enough to be jeered at by someone because of medieval prejudices, but to discuss it with the person she had shed so many tears over made her insecure and as though she was not the one in control.

"No."

"Are you here to spy?"

She looked at him, hoping that he would screw up, hoping that he would say something wrong, but she was disappointed.

"No," was his final answer.

The people in the room were all looking at him in complete disbelief. She was clearly not the only one who was distrusting. He remained silent and stoic, despite how badly he wanted to laugh at all their stupid, incredulous expressions.

After a few moments of silence, Harry slid him another vial containing the antidote, still staring at him as he swallowed a drop of it.

"Well, dearest friends," he drawled. "Seems you all owe me an apology."

"Not so fast, Malfoy," Hermione blurted. "You still need to take the vow.

"Ah yes," Draco muttered coldly. "Would you like to do the honors, Granger? I'm sure you've read all about it."

"My pleasure," she said through gritted teeth.

Draco held out his arm, looking the Boy-Who-Lived in the eyes. Harry grabbed Draco's wrist, and he did the same. Draco briefly wondered what it would be like now if he had done the same when the two boys had first met. What would the differences have been? But the thought was shattered when Granger flicked her wand to create a warm and invisible rope around their two hands.

"Will you, Draco Malfoy pledge to do whatever you can to fight against the cause that you formerly served?"

"I will," he said without hesitation.

The rope snapped and flashed an orange color before returning to its invisibility.

"Will you do whatever you can to protect those on your side, no matter how much you despise them?"

"I will."

Snap.

"Will you stay with the Order and never return to the Death Eaters, even on a companion's request?"

"I will."

And with a final snapping sound, the rope dissolved into nothingness, and the air was instead filled with questions on all parties.

.

.

Draco quickly realized that life with the Order was going to be even worse than he had formerly assumed. To his great displeasure, the place that seemed to be a rustic house was actually an enchanted tent in the middle of an old woodland. Fantastic.

What was even worse, however, was that there were more tents and that each of them seemed to contain multiple people. Privacy helped to clear his head, and it was clear he wouldn't be getting an ounce of privacy in this camp.

"So I have to share with two people of your choice?" Draco asked Potter as he was being shown around. "Lovely."

"I'll tell you one thing; You won't be with me."

He raised his eyebrows, smirking. "Good."

"Don't think I'm making this fun for you," Harry warned. Draco arched an eyebrow. "You'll be with Hermione and Luna."

Sharing a room with two females would hardly be a problem for him, as he was as much of a womanizer as he was rumored to be, that is, if they were attractive. But in his opinion, Potter couldn't have put him with two less attractive people. Lovegood was insane and constantly wearing some new ridiculous charm to ward off invisible creatures, and Granger was just Granger. That was the main problem with her. She wasn't half bad to look at until you were stuck in a tent with her and being irritated by the obnoxious sound of her voice.

"Great," he groaned.

"Whether I like it or not, you're on my side now," Potter said after a moment's hesitation.

The thought of him and Potter working together was still a foreign and nonexistent concept to Draco, despite the lingering agreement binding them. They had always been on opposing sides; whether it be on the battlefield or the Quidditch Pitch.

"If you're anything like me, you dislike it."

"I guess we have more in common than we thought. We'll start here," Potter grinned.

"Guess so," he stated simply, not returning his smile. "What do we even do here?"

"People switch duties everyday. You'll find out which one you are in the morning. Occasionally they'll be a battle or mission but that all takes place in other places if we're lucky. I usually run things."

"Of course you do, you're Harry Potter," the Slytherin scoffed.

Harry glared at him for a moment before he spoke. "Erh - you can go to your tent now. We won't be doing anything tonight, unless something happens. If something happens, the big bell over there will chime."

Draco nodded and retreated into the tent he was assigned to, awaiting the inevitable confrontation with Granger.

.

.

It became clear to Draco that he didn't just hate Hermione Granger during school because of prejudice; He hated her because there wasn't anything for him to like. She was stubborn, arrogant, hotheaded, overly opinionated, petty, argumentative, and undeniably the most infuriating witch he had ever known.

Their first argument, and sure as hell not their last, broke out at around one o'clock in the morning on Draco's first night with the Order. The first argument wasn't one that either of them would forget. It was a moment locked into both their fates. This argument in particular made them realize that they were very much intellectual equals, and that they were most definitely not going to get along, despite their shared traits.

"Malfoy," Hermione snapped at him from across the room. He looked up from the Daily Prophet article that he had previously been reading and glared at her, showing her she had his attention. "Why are you here?"

"Why are you here, Granger?"

"Because this is the right side and I have always believedin it. All my life. You're not like us. You're prejudiced, and you're too arrogant to even apologize for all that you've done wrong."

"Oh believe me when I say that your arrogance rivals mine," he countered.

She narrowed her brown eyes and crossed her arms. "I know you're up to something. I see right through you."

"I need you to answer a question for me," he told her, rising from his seat and leaning against the column across from the one she was currently leaning on, smirking as though he was enjoying himself.

Hermione couldn't help but notice how attractive that smirk was, and how attractive his whole demeanor was. She would never act on it, or dwell on it for that matter, but the thought passed through her head before she could stop it.

"I would never do anything you tell me to do unless I have the desire to.

"Great," he dismissed the topic before going on. "Why is it that you, the girl in our grade at school that memorized every page of every book in existence remember a definition as that of Veritaserum?"

"I remember exactly what it is, thanks," she hissed, narrowing her eyes. "You're an Occlumens, and quite obviously a good one if you supposedly fooled both your father and Voldemort for so long."

"So you think I'm bluffing. I may not be humble, Granger, but I'm humble enough to admit that I'm not even nearly skilled enough to do that. You ignore the facts, and frankly you get on my nerves."

"The feeling is very much mutual" she snapped. "You're so arrogant. You're always smirking like you're so above everyone else but you are nothing. I've never seen you genuinely smile once."

"There isn't much to smile about when you're being pressured into becoming a murderer and being tortured by your own father."

"You're a bad person," she sneered.

"Do me a favor," he paused, meeting her hazel eyes. "Tell me something that I don't know rather than regurgitating useless facts. Perhaps you should start admitting things about yourself, Granger. Flaws. One of which the fact you always have to be right."

"That isn't true whatsoever."

"Lying is a sin," he accused knowingly.

"So is being a bastard but you do plenty of that," she quipped.

He raised his eyebrows, and chuckled, clapping. "Not bad, Granger. You're almost on my level."

"I'm not joking, Draco Malfoy," she uttered dangerously. "You think you're above everything and everyone but you're soon going to discover that that's not the case. That's going to hit you fast here."

"Well, I'll always be above you. My level is unattainable for you."

"You're right," she responded coolly. "No one is capable of sinking that low."

"That comment lacked originality," he shrugged. "You might want to write up some new ones if we're going to be living under the same roof."

"Would you stop taking everything so lightly and listen to what I have to say?"

"Stop trying to be confrontational and I will," he snapped. "Don't act like I don't know what you're trying to do, Granger. You're trying to get a rise out of me and get me kicked out my first day. Well tough luck, Granger, that's not going to happen."

"You're the same person you were, and you haven't experienced some miraculous change of heart. I haven't got to try to prove that to anyone. It's written all over your whole demeanor."

"Don't act like you know; or knew me, Granger," he retorted. "You'll just embarrass yourself."

"Oh, I knew you. You were always a bastard, and a cowardly one at that. You worship your father like it's some twisted religion and live to make other people miserable. You're so high up on your high horse that you can't admit defeat when it's clearly been issued t you."

He laughed mirthlessly.

"So you would like being shot down for every mistake your whole life? You think that's being treated like royalty? You're fairly daft for being a self proclaimed genius. View my memories in a Pensieve and then we can talk."

"I did get shot down, and not even for a mistake!" she shouted hotly. "It was for my blood. Something I obviously can't help, and was clearly not an issue for anyone but you. You make me sick."

"I did what I knew. All I knew was cruelty," he stated tonelessly. He wanted to prove a point. He wanted to prove a point he'd changed, and he wanted to show that the one thing that hadn't change was the fact that he would always hate her; not for her blood, but for who she was. "Though trust me, I don't regret putting you down."

"I figured you didn't. I don't regret punching you either."

"I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be noble and righteous. You seem to have missed the memo."

"Slytherins are supposed to be pathetic Death Eaters," she grinned smugly and arched an eyebrow. "It seems you haven't missed that one."

His response couldn't be heard, because as soon as he opened his mouth to retort, the eerie and telling sound of the bell chimed through the camp, and anxious assumptions ran through the minds of the both of them.

Author's Note

I've never posted any of my writing online before, and I'm actually really nervous about it. Be nice. I've been writing this work for a while now though so I'll hopefully be able to upload the chapters a lot. Enjoy!

UPDATE:

Currently revising because my writing skills have grown since I wrote this, and some of the grammar mistakes are terrible so yeah I'm fixing it. Plus my author's notes were irritating and I want to fix those. I'm not changing the plot, I'm changing the quality. All the statements are of the same meaning but better phrased. Yay revising!