.-'-.-'-.-'-.-'-.-'-.-'-. chapter one : aboard the hogwarts express (again) .-'-.-'-.-'-.-'-.-'-.-'-.

Draco Malfoy, 17 years of age, boarded the Hogwarts Express, whispering to himself his resolutions for that day. No more conceitedness, no more arrogance, no more pleasing father...He picked a compartment and sat down, looking out the window, where he saw Hermione standing alone on the platform. He smiled. She had really grown up over the summer. His smile vanished when Hermione waved to someone he couldn't see, and then Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, came into view. He had grown a few inches over the summer holidays. Hermione hugged him and they boarded the train together.

Feeling a twinge of jealousy, Draco turned and looked at the empty seat opposite him. He was all alone. But he mustn't feel bitter, he musn't feel jealous of someone else. They were happy, and they should be happy, they deserved it.

Unlike he.

So much had happened over the summer that Draco wasn't sure about things anymore. His father, Lucius Malfoy, had been put away into Azkaban, the wizard prison, thanks to Harry. At first, Draco had been angry, and then bitter, and then . . . well, he felt slightly relieved. Everyone assumed that Lucius spoilt Draco, and in a way that was true. But Lucius expect Draco to do things for him, and for the Dark Lord, things that Draco was rather reluctant to do. Things like hating people from other houses simply because they weren't in Slytherin, because they weren't supporters of the Dark Lord. Draco didn't like the Dark Lord, but the Malfoys were famous for being pureblood and for being in Voldemort's inner circle, so it was hard to change the way people thought about him.

Narcissa, Draco's mother, had disowned him. "You are no son of mine, Draco," she had said simply, when Lucius had been sent to Azkaban. "How can you say such bad things about the Dark Lord, and about your father?!"

Malfoy sighed, and glanced out the window again, where he saw Crabbe and Goyle. They saw him on the train, those stupid oafs, and they scowled at him. They must have heard about Draco's disloyalty to the Dark Lord. He could have sworn, as he watched them get onto the Hogwarts Express, that their fists were clenched into tight balls, and he knew that he had better be careful from now on.

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"What's wrong with Malfoy?" Hermione nudged Harry.

Harry, swallowing his food, looked up at the Slytherin table, where he saw Draco Malfoy sitting at the end of the table, silent, and hardly touching his food. Crabbe and Goyle were further up the table glaring daggers at him, but Draco didn't seem to notice.

The Feast was magnificent, and Ron Weasley was scoffing down as much food as he could, as he was starving. The food on the train hadn't been enough to keep him going, and he had complained about his hunger before the train had even arrived at Hogwarts.

"Well?" Hermione turned to Harry. "What's wrong with him?"

"Why do you care about a git like him?" Harry asked, looking sceptically at Hermione.

"I don't," Hermione said impatiently, "but he looks . . . different. I mean, he's not even wearing his trademark smirk on his face anymore. What's gotten into him?"

"He must be feeling down because I put his dad into Azkaban," Harry shrugged. "Come on Hermione," he added, when Hermione still looked a little concerned. "You're worrying about Malfoy, Hermione, MALFOY. The idiot who calls you a Mudblood. The idiot who takes every opportunity to insult you. Why worry about him?"

Hermione nodded slowly, and cast one last glance in Draco's direction before turning back to her pie. Though she knew what Harry said was true, about Draco being horrid to her, she knew that something about Malfoy was different, and the way he looked . . . she almost felt sorry for him.

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So what do you think? This is my first fanfic. Please read and review, and be nice please! XD