Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm not that brilliant.

A/N: Hello everyone! This is my first foray into writing fanfiction, so... ta-da! I've had this story idea for a long time, and I finally feel comfortable enough to post it. Even if no one reads this (although I sincerely hope you will!) I'm still very proud of this story. It is meant to be a very realistic take on Draco and Hermione getting together because, let's face it, they belong together! There are just so many obstacles in their way that some fics overlook - I wanted to tackle those in a way that is as true to the original plot as possible. As such, this fic will be very, VERY close to the original plot of POA, and then it will veer a bit as the characters evolve. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!

Chapter One

The dining room was an impressive sight to behold for those who weren't already accustomed to it. The dark mahogany table ran almost the full length of the colossal room. The straight-backed chairs were adorned with rich, textured fabrics. They were the type of expensive furnishing that bespoke power and poise but offered little comfort. The ceilings towered high above, with intricate details carved into the molding. Three grandiose chandeliers hung imperiously above the table, and even their combined brightness did nothing to lighten the mood of the room.

Lucius Malfoy sat at the head of the imposing table. His chair was even taller than the others, as if to imply that he was King, and the rest of the table's occupants existed to serve him. Narcissa Malfoy sat to her husband's left, her bearing one of almost severe elegance. She was undeniably beautiful, but she seemed rigid and unmoving despite her obvious grace.

Draco Malfoy sat to the right of his father. His pale face and pale hair contrasted abruptly with the dark decor surrounding him. He somehow managed to slump in the austere chair, as if he had never managed to figure out how he was supposed to fit. His father, who had been diligently reading the Daily Prophet, flicked his eyes over to Draco. Scrutinizing the boy's posture, he cleared his throat loudly, accusingly. The sound almost tangibly cut through the tense silence, and Draco's hand flew reflexively to his left side.

He shot up straight in his seat, keeping his face carefully blank. After a moment, Lucius returned his attention to the paper. Draco subtly let out his breath.

Narcissa, to banish the uneasy silence, inquired, "Have you finished packing, Draco?"

"Yes, mother," he replied.

"Good, dear. We will leave promptly at 10:15. Is there anything else you need before you go? I can always send Dobb-" she cut short, eyes flicking to her husband before she corrected herself, "-one of the house elves to fetch whatever you require."

"No, mother."

"Well, if anything comes up, we can owl it to you," she stated primly. Another few minutes passed in silence.

Draco quietly moved his food around on his plate, not actually eating anything.

Finally, Lucius folded the Prophet shut and stood. Narcissa and Draco followed, and they all departed from the room without another word.

Platform 9 ¾ was bustling as usual. Draco quickly spotted Crabbe and Goyle. He gave his parents a formal farewell and turned to leave, only to have his father grab his shoulder. If anyone happened to look over at that moment, they wouldn't have seen the force Lucius used as he subtly ground his thumb into a pressure point on his son's back. Draco winced. Not because of the pain.

Spinning him round so they faced each other, Lucius spoke, his lips hardly moving as he drawled: "Understand this, Draco. You will comport yourself appropriately this term. Our family is under particular scrutiny from the ministry after last year's debacle. If I find out that you have drawn any negative attention to my name, however inconsequential, you will be swiftly dealt with. I won't have all my hard work to repair my reputation undone by your idiotic, adolescent whims. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Draco affirmed, schooling his features into the impassive mask that was ingrained in him.

Appeased, Lucius released his son's shoulder and stepped back. Draco nodded towards his father, gave his mother the barest of smiles, and made his leave.

He caught Crabbe and Goyle's attention and boarded the scarlet train with them in tow. Even though they were just starting their third year, the two other boys were already massive. Using their superior bulk to their advantage, they threw a couple of first years out of a compartment and lumbered inside. Draco followed and sat down just as the train lurched forward. Only when the platform was out of sight did he finally allow himself to relax.

He was finally going back. Back to the only place he felt comfortable, the only place he really belonged. He was free.

Draco walked into the Great Hall the next day with all the superiority that his perfect breeding afforded him. He sat at his usual place at the Slytherin table, surrounded by Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and began piling his plate with eggs and toast. His impressions of Potter fainting on the train had gotten such a good reaction at the welcome feast the night before, he thought he'd give it another go this morning. He wasn't disappointed.

After a few minutes, he got his time-table from Professor Snape, who regarded him with a subtle nod, and he immediately began to complain about how many of his classes were shared with the bloody Gryffindors. He glared across the hall to the far table which was covered in scarlet and gold.

"They're like a plague! Honestly!" he sneered, "Or maybe an infestation. I'm sure that I could have father donate some gold and get someone to clear up the problem. I've heard exterminators can do wonders with gnomes; Gryffindors can't be much more intelligent."

Pansy tittered to his left, shooting him an admiring look through her heavy lashes. The attention bolstered him.

Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't exactly friends, but they were the closest thing that Draco had to the word. Truth be told, they were more like followers than friends. They typically did as he asked, and he reveled in the control he felt at their obedience.

Across the hall, he saw three heads turn towards him, glaring. McGonagall was walking away from them, shuffling through the parchment in her hands. From the look of things, Potter, Weasley, and Granger were no happier about their time-tables than he was. He leered back at them, noting how ridiculous Granger's hair looked. How had she still not managed to tame it? She looked like she had been raised by a herd of wild centaurs and only just decided to live indoors and become civilized. How could she bear to appear so unkempt?

"Draco?"

Ridiculous, he thought. A Malfoy would never be caught looking so disheveled. It was inappropriate - unspeakable. It was... vulnerable. She just seemed so... unaffected. Exposed. How could she stand it?

"Draco!"

He was roused from his musings by Pansy's elbow in his ribs.

"AAGH!" he howled, almost falling backwards off the bench to escape her. His hand flew to his tender left side.

"Oh! Draco, are you okay?" she simpered. To his right, Goyle snickered quietly. Draco glared at the larger boy and quickly stood.

"Merlin, Pansy! Keep your hands to yourself!" he barked.

"You were ignoring me!" she stated petulantly.

"Well you might just have to get used to it if you insist on injuring me constantly!" And with that, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the Hall.

A minute later, he ducked into the boy's lavatory. Gingerly unbuttoning his shirt, he inspected the dark, angry bruise that marred the pale skin on his lower ribs. The center was a deep purple that faded out to an array of maroons, greens, and yellows. It wouldn't have been beautiful if it hadn't been so morbid.

There hadn't been a chance to examine it before he left the manor. He squinted his eyes shut against the memory of acquiring it. Letting out a shaky breath, he brought out his wand and began muttering, struggling to perform the correct movements at such an awkward angle. The healing spell helped slightly, but did little to vanish the blemish. Just like all the other times he'd tried to cast the charm.

Sighing, he pulled his shirt back into place and refastened the buttons. He turned his attention to the mirror and tucked in the loose shirttails, straightened his green-and-black striped tie, and repositioned his robes on his shoulders. Then he stood up straight, lifted his chin, wrapped his cold, indifferent demeanor around himself like a cloak, and sauntered out the door.

Hermione could hardly contain her excitement. A brand-new year! She stared fondly down at her time-table, her hand unconsciously feeling for the necklace that hung beneath her robes. It was still there; its reassuring weight was uplifting, invigorating. She allowed herself a private smile. Whoever said that no one can have it all had obviously never met Hermione Granger. This year was going to be perfect.

Okay, maybe it wasn't entirely flawless. She hadn't imagined that her perfect year would include a horde of Dementors floating macabrely around the outskirts of the school grounds. There was also the issue of the escaped murderer they sought. And Harry had fainted on the train…

Okay, fine. It was off to a rough start. But she wasn't going to let anything keep her from fully enjoying this year. The challenge was thrilling. The opportunity was mouth-watering. She was going to be able to learn so much.

She just realized that Ron had been speaking to her for the last minute or so.

"…I mean, I know the Slytherins have to learn somewhere, but do they have to be in the same classes with us? Surely the teachers know that it would just be easier to leave them down in the dungeons!" A broad, dreamy smile spread across his freckled face, "Yeah, the dungeons would be great!" Seeing his goofy grin, Hermione couldn't help but smile fondly as well.

"Yeah, that'd be great!" added Harry, "Maybe Filch will be so sentimental about having students in the dungeons again that he'd start stringing them up by their toes like he used to in the old days!"

Ron tried to stifle his sniggering as Professor McGonagall brushed past them. "But Dumbledore probably wouldn't stand for it," he said sarcastically once his laughter was under control, "So we have to deal with bloody Malfoy and his bloody face."

At that moment, he turned to glare behind him at the Slytherin table. Hermione and Harry followed his example. Malfoy seemed to sense their stares, as he quickly locked eyes with them, expression darkening. Eventually, Harry and Ron turned back around and finished wolfing down their sausages and fried tomatoes. Hermione rolled her eyes at Malfoy and resumed studying her time-table. She needed to memorize it as soon as possible. No, she thought, I won't let anything stop me from having a perfect year.

A/N So here it is - the first chapter! I know it's starting a little slow - I swear it will pick up soon. I just had to set the stage and give a bit of insight into Draco's situation. What are your thoughts? I'd love to know how my first attempt is going so far!