A/N: Hi! It's Wolf speaking, I'd just like to say a few things before I start the story...

Undo, undo, UNDDOOOOO. Ew. Ugh.

Pardon the momentary freakout and the 'backspace' abuse. I wrote this story when I was 13, and have returned 2 years later to finished it. And correct it. And remove the ever annoying little A/Ns that I wrote. And DEMOLISH THE CLICHE METAPHORS. I'm too lazy to rewrite the entire thing, so bare with me. There will be some remaining cliches and stupid grammar errors, more than likely.

And I'll be fixing like, one chapter at a time. So half the time, you'll see the starry-eyed, giggly, I-edit-my-pics-on-picnik 13 year old me in the A/Ns. (By the time I'm done editing everything, I'll come back and delete this paragraph. Probably. If I remember.) But trust me, you'll know when you see that side of me. Ugh. I stopped writing for 2 years at Chapter 8, so the A/N of chapter 9 is gonna be some weird inception thing. It'll be like, "woah, it's been like, 2 years since I've been here... Hey guise? Hate me yet? Lemme go edit the old stuff BRB!" So be mentally prepared for that... I guess... (?)

Yupyupyup (Land Before Time, anyone? Ducky's voice actor was murdered when she was like, 10. Fun Fact!) So, you know the whole return-to-school, Draco-is-Head-Boy-and-Hermione-is-Head-Girl ordeal. That's where we'll be starting. Reviews appreciated!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even the characters of my invention because the authors on FanFiction today don't seem to realize that their characters aren't legally copyrighted, and to be honest, this whole disclaimer is insanely pointless and I don't even know why I included it when I was 13, because when I agreed to the terms and conditions, I pretty much said that I own nothing. /oddrantthing

So, why don't you meet me, down behind the old school?
We'll waste away the weekend with perfect regard for how
Cavalier we used to be, that beautiful insanity,
The apathy's surrounding me,
Don't close your eyes or we''ll fade away...
~Old School by Hedley

The sun beat down gently on the girl's head when she stepped out of the car, the heat making her soft brown curls instantly frizz. She left her air-conditioned refuge hesitantly and delicately, placing her old worn sneakers uncertainly on the sizzling pavement. Clearing her throat uncertainly, she shaded her caramel eyes with her slim hand, observing her surroundings with the bittersweet taste of nostalgia in the back of her throat.

"Here you are, Miss Granger," Hestia Jones said as she slammed the car door behind her. "King's Cross train station."

"Thank you, Hestia," Hermione Granger said as she smiled fondly at the tiny woman.

Hestia had been Hermione's -for lack of a better term- bodyguard since the battle at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had insisted upon the trio each having one, pointing out that there were still many Death Eaters the ministry had yet to capture who would stop at nothing to avenge their lord's death. Though the two manly Gryffindors protested loudly, they knew she was right. Hermione didn't mind at all; in fact, she had enjoyed her time with the older woman, whom often shared very moralistic life stories with Hermione about times when she was a younger witch. They had spent many hours sipping hot chocolate and discussing their favorite muggle books. Hermione sensed that her summer would have been very lonely without her.

Being Hermione Granger, she only did everything to the best of her abilities. And that meant everything... Including the oblivation on her parents. Needless to say, no attempts at memory restoration worked, leaving Hermione homeless after the battle. Of course, Mrs. Weasley had offered Hermione refuge, but money at their place was very tight and Hermione didn't want to take advantage of them- despite Mrs. Weasley's constant reassurance that she wasn't. Besides, the Weasley residency was already full, and Hermione hated being cramped. So instead, Professor McGonagall took it upon herself to find Hermione a place to stay within one of the Order's old safehouses. She was currently residing in Muggle London, in a small town that was conveniently two hours away from the train station.

"Hermione!" shouted a familiar voice. Hermione had no trouble picking out the carrot-colored head in the crowd, though at the moment, his smile seemed brighter than his hair.

"Ron!" Hermione cried, throwing her arms around the scrawny Weasley child.

She pulled back and surveyed him, from his flaming hair to his lopsided grin to his gangly appearance. For a minute, the two just looked at each other, a blush slowly creeping into the redhead's face. The situation quickly became awkward and Hermione looked away.

"'Mione!" called a new voice, saving Hermione from further awkwardness and embarrassment. Hermione looked up to see the younger Weasley sister, her legendary boyfriend in tow. Hermione grinned. "Ginny! Harry!" The two embraced her.

"I've missed you guys so much," Hermione gushed- she was surprised to find that she hadn't even realized how much she really did miss the three until now.

"We've missed you too!" Ginny replied. "I have so much to tell you!" Her eyes traveled to Harry and she winked at Hermione discreetly. Harry had spent the summer at the burrow and Hermione knew that Ginny was just itching to fill her in on the fluffy details of their time together. While Ginny fell back into Harry's arms, Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly jealous. She wondered impatiently if she and Ron would ever get passed their awkward stage. She shook her head, forcing the thought back. Don't be ridiculous. All relationships take time. She told herself.

"Ronald and Ginevra Weasley!" Someone huffed sternly, whom Hermione instantly recognized as Mrs. Weasley, "You know better than to run off from me like that!" As Ron and Ginny looked to the ground, shuffling their feet and mumbling apologies, Mrs. Weasley turned to Hermione and smiled fondly. "Hermione, dear! How nice to see you!" She reached forward and wrapped the younger witch into a motherly embrace. There it was again- that nostalgia. Hermione tried to ignore the small pang in her heart and blinked away the threatening tears.

"I've missed you too, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said as she forced herself to smile at the woman.

"Now, we better get you three on the train," Mrs. Weasley continued, bustling the three along.

As the Weasley's and Harry went back to retrieve their carts, Hermione turned around to discover that Hestia had unloaded Hermione's during the small reunion. "Thank you, Hestia," Hermione said, a smile etched across her beautiful features. Hestia returned the smile and reached to hug Hermione, who was nearly an inch taller.

"It's been nice knowing you, Hermione Granger," she said quietly.

"Will I ever see you again?" Hermione asked as they pulled apart.

"Maybe," Hestia said wistfully. She flashed Hermione another smile. "We still need to discuss Edgar Allen Poe's work."

Hermione grinned at that. "Definitely."

"Hermione!" Harry called. "Come on!"

"Coming!" Hermione called back. She turned back to Hestia. "Thanks for everything. You've been a great friend."

"Always a pleasure," Hestia said. "Now go with your friends. And have a great year."

Hermione tried not cry. Through the months, Hestia had been like a mother to Hermione, filling the empty void that her heart had made when she obliviated her parents. She knew it would be a very long time until she'd see Hestia again, if she ever saw her at all, and knowing this made Hermione feel as if she was losing her parents all over again. She pursed her lips and nodded at Hestia, finding herself unable to speak, and took the cart. She ran off to join her friends at the train. Don't look back, Hermione's mind willed.

Hermione remembered thinking the same thing when she had obliviated her parents.

It was a new year for Hermione Ganger. She had no parents, no home, and not much money. But the Dark Lord was dead, her best friends were alive, and she was returning to the school she so loved. Things had changed, but she was going to make the best of it. That, she promised herself.

But she had no idea how hard that promise would be to keep.

Alone.

Utterly alone.

That's exactly what Draco Malfoy felt as he strutted through Platform 9 3/4, his head lifted high and his stone cold eyes emotionless. He wouldn't let anyone onto that, however, because according to his father, a Malfoy's weakness was in his emotion.

Not that he ever listened to his father anymore. No, he despised the man with everything he had. But that didn't mean his lessons didn't used to be important to Draco. When he was little, Lucius Malfoy was his teacher. His idol. He was everything a Malfoy aught to be, everything Draco wanted to be. Draco had grown up in his father's footsteps, taking his words to heart. Merlin, he didn't even mind how cruel his father spoke to him back then. He embraced it.

Yes, Draco used to love his father. But there comes a time in every child's life when he realizes that his parents aren't perfect, perhaps when they learn that the Easter Bunny isn't real or Santa Claus doesn't exist. It came to Draco when his father first hit him.

It was after Voldemort had risen. At first, his father was glad to hear this news. He was even overjoyed. Draco was quite happy to see his father show an emotion other than hatred or sarcasm, so you can understand his disappointment when Narcissa asked if joining the Dark Lord was such a good idea. Lucius, enraged, asked why ever wouldn't it be a good idea? Narcissa argued that she didn't want to see her son grow up in such a dangerous environment.

That was when Lucius's abuse broke the barrier from verbal to physical.

Draco, horrified that Lucius had hit his mother, tried to intervene. Blinded by his rage, Lucius crucio'd his son. And as Draco's agonizing screams echoed through the halls, Lucius laughed. Laughed at his own son's pain.

Things had changed in the Malfoy home from then on. No longer did Narcissa questioned her husband's actions -though Draco could easily tell that she didn't approve-, and no longer did Draco disobey his father. But Lucius always found a reason to send a crucio or two in their direction, no matter how perfect Draco tried to make himself. No matter how much like his father he tried to become.

"Mr. Malfoy?" squeaked a tiny, uncertain voice. Draco felt someone tug on his shirt. "Twitzy wants to know if Mr. Malfoy is alright?"

Draco shook himself from the memory. "I'm fine," he snapped, slapping the house elf's hand away. "Great, you soiled my clothes, you good-for-nothing oversized rat! Hurry up and get the cart, the train is leaving soon."

"Twitzy is sorry, Mr. Malfoy!" the house elf amended. "Twitzy did not mean to offend Mr. Malfoy..."

"Don't call me that," Draco growled. Being called by his father's name made Draco feel more and more like the Malfoy sire. "And I thought I told you to get the cart!"

"Right away, Mr. Malfoy," the house elf said, scurrying towards the cart.

"I told you not to call me that!" Draco shouted as the house elf returned. He pushed his way through the crowd and onto the train, excessively shoving those who wouldn't move.

Instead of going to his normal compartment, where Blaise Zabini, Theodore Knott, and the ever-annoying Pansy Parkinson would be waiting (Goyle wouldn't be returning this year; he was too shaken up by Crabbe's death, and quite frankly Draco thought he would've been too stupid to make it through the year anyway. It was a miracle that he had gotten through the others), Draco was forced to head to the Head Compartment, due to his new responsibilities as Head Boy.

He was somewhat surprised when Professor (or, should he say, Headmistress) McGonagall had granted him the privilege, seeing that his family were, after all, Death Eaters. Though quite frankly, he couldn't care less for her reasons. Torturing first years would be undoubtedly easy with this new position of power. He just hoped the Head Girl wasn't too bothersome; they would be sharing their own private common room. But no matter how annoying she turned out to be, if she wasn't a pureblood or a Slytherin, he was going to make this year hell for her.

As he slid open the compartment door, he found that karma seemed to have been holding something against him. Because, sitting before him with her usual frizzy hair piled upon her oversized head, absorbed into a bloody muggle book, was the very last person he wanted to spend his year with.

"Malfoy?"

"Granger?"

A/N: ZOMG NEVER WOULDA SEEN IT COMING.

Jayyykayy. Lawl.

Seriously hoping that nobody was scared off by my interesting A/N at the beginning. Ah, well. Hoped you liked it! ..Erm, the story. Not the A/N. But, you know, that too.