A/N: Here's chapter one of my newest story! Right now this is rated "T", but I may up the rating in later chapters just to be safe. Reviews would be really appreciated, as they help to feed the muse. :) My goal for this fiction is to update twice a week, hopefully, but I am in high school and my homework (unfortunately) takes priority. Please R&R, and enjoy the new Dramione! :)

Chapter One:

It felt a bit wrong, not taking the Hogwarts Express back to Scotland that year. Hermione had unpacked and repacked her trunk at least a dozen times and was anxiously watching the clock in her flat, waiting for her portkey to activate. She knew that right now hundreds of eager students would be boarding the smoking, bright-red locomotive, buying chocolate frogs and Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans, eagerly awaiting their arrival back at their school. Parents would smile as they sent their children away because everyone knew that for the first time in seven years, it would be a truly peaceful school year. Or, at least that's what Hermione hoped.

Opening her trunk again, Hermione riffled around for her hairbrush and triumphantly found it close to the bottom. She walked quickly to her bathroom, and brushed her hair for the zillionth time since she woke up. At eighteen, Hermione was a bit more self-conscious about her looks than she had been at age eleven. As a result, her hair was no longer frizzy or out of control; now it would be described as 'curly', or 'wavy', and it was often pulled back into a simple ponytail. The rest of Hermione's appearance hadn't changed much; she'd retained her good figure, as well as her pale, freckled skin (her freckles being the bane of her existence), and her brown eyes which were now surrounded by light make-up. Arching a single black, bushy eyebrow, Hermione said to herself, "Well, that's about as good as it's going to get."

When Hermione returned her hairbrush to her trunk, she noticed that Professor McGonagall's letter had ended up on the top of her bag. Hermione plucked out the worn envelope and re-read the note for the hundredth time.

Dear Miss Granger,

Although I'm sure you're positively tired of hearing it, I'd like to extend my congratulations to you for your remarkable courage and incredible display of intelligence during the battle against Voldemort. I always knew that you were a special witch, and that you'd do remarkable things with your life.

However, your life has only just begun! The specially offered "eighth year" at Hogwarts over the next three semesters is designed for your year to complete their education officially and properly; no dark magic, no all-year absences, and no need to fear for your safety. Hogwarts will be fully repaired by the start of term, however you will not be returning to Gryffindor Tower. Special accommodations will be made. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms will be mandatory courses, while Muggle Studies, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Astronomy, Arithmancy, and History of Magic will be optional.

If you do not wish to complete your education to the fullest extent possible – Minister Shacklebolt's "Young Auror Recruitment Program" offering many the chance to jump-start their careers – that is also completely acceptable. Please send me an owl as to whether or not you would like to be enrolled in this year's special program by July twenty-ninth at the latest. Should you accept, a portkey will be sent to bring you past the Hogwarts apparition barriers.

Have a wonderful summer, and do try not to get into trouble dear.

Warmest wishes,

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Order of Merlin First Class

When Ron had gotten his letter from McGonagall, he'd immediately thrown it into the rubbish bin; he'd already accepted Shacklebolt's request to join the Auror corps, and due to Ron's admirable performance during the Battle of Hogwarts he was granted immediate admission. Harry, however, had dithered. One day he'd want to be an auror, the next he'd decided that he wanted to go back to Hogwarts…..Hermione was very confused as to what her friend had actually decided. But Neville and Luna are coming! Hermione thought happily. And Ginny, and Dean, and Seamus….Ginny will be there, but she'll be with her age-group, finishing her seventh year…..

Shaking her head, Hermione placed the letter back in the trunk, picked up her portkey – a single silver knitting needle- and resumed her pacing. She was due to leave in just one minute, but she was terrified that for some reason she'd miss her window. She couldn't imagine actually having a peaceful year at Hogwarts, and the thought of finally finishing one year without Voldemort hovering over her head left Hermione feeling both nauseous and excited. Surely something has to go wrong, she thought anxiously. I mean, it wouldn't be Hogwarts if something exciting and dangerous didn't happen!

Hermione yelped when she realized that the knitting needle in her hand was heating up – the ten-second to departure warning. Grabbing onto her trunk with her left hand, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. I really hate travelling by portkey, she thought to herself, just as she felt the horrible sickening whoosh that meant she had left her flat and was en route to Hogwarts.

The spinning sensation lasted for longer than usual, as it was a pretty long distance from inner-city London to the outskirts of Northern Scotland. Clutching her bag, knuckles white, Hermione started counting backwards from one hundred. She had just reached "twenty-seven" when her ears started to pop, an indication that she was about to land at Hogwarts.

"Damn," she said quietly, pulling her bag closer and curling up. "I never did perfect my landing technique – oomph!"

With a loud "thud" Hermione landed gracelessly onto soft, dew-covered grass. Immediately, the smell of Hogwarts – rain, earth, cinnamon, and parchment – assaulted Hermione's nose. Uncurling her arms from around her trunk, she flipped over onto her back and spread her arms and legs. Her eyes closed, she turned her head to face the sun, feeling the warmth seeping into her bones. I'm home, she thought happily, and a smile played across her lips.

"Trying to make a snow angel?" an unfamiliar male voice said. Hermione shot upright, her wand drawn and her eyes snapping open. "It's awfully early in the season to hope for snow."

Coming fully to her feet, Hermione spun slowly around. She immediately realized that she was in the middle of the quidditch pitch, so she quickly erected a bubble shield around her exposed position. "Who's there?" Hermione called out, her voice calm and detached sounding, echoing around the eerily empty stadium. Thoughts of masked, black-cloaked men, and aspiring Dark Lords swirled around her thoughts, and an icy fear settled in her chest.

"You don't recognize the sound of my voice?" the mysterious wizard said, sounding mildly disappointed.

"Honestly, no," Hermione deadpanned, casting silent charms that would disable any invisibility charms or concealing potions. Still seeing no one, she frowned. Where was this guy?

"That's rather depressing," the voice said bitterly. "I've known you since you were eleven."

Hermione lowered her wand slightly. "You're a Hogwarts student?" she said, her eyes flickering around where the massive timbres held the stands above the playing field. A person could easily hide behind the larger-than-life wooden pillars.

"…Ooh, are we going to play a game of questions?" the voice said sarcastically.

Hermione blinked slowly as she crept towards the pillar nearest her. "Well I'm at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I don't know who you are. Oblige me?" Hermione waited anxiously to see if she had bought herself time to figure out who this mystery speaker was.

"Four questions left, Granger," the voice said slowly. "Use them well."

Hermione ears perked up at the use of her old nickname. Who would know that? Well, anyone from Hogwarts, really…. "Alright," she said quickly, whipping around the first pillar to see that no one was there. "What house were you in?"

"Ah-ah-ah," the voice warned, "I can only answer yes or no. You just wasted a question, Granger."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she slunk through the shadows to the pillar on her left. "Fine. Never mind. Umm…are you in my year?"

There was a silence. "You know, you're quite dim-witted for the cleverest witch of your age. Yes, I am in your year. Two questions left."

No one was behind the third or fourth pillars Hermione checked either. There was something nagging and familiar about this voice, though – the memory was clear, the face that belonged to the voice skirting around the edges of her memory. Tapping her wand thoughtfully against her cheek as she rounded another pillar, Hermione tried to think of questions that wouldn't potentially offend her mystery companion. "Have you ever played wizard's chess?" she asked tentatively, hoping that the voice would answer to the negative. Giving that answer would mean that he had to be a Hufflepuff, since the badger-affiliated house was the only one that avoided such 'brutal' and 'conniving' past-times. Although if she was honest with herself, she was fairly certain that her tormentor was not a kind and good-natured Hufflepuff.

"Of course I have!" the voice replied, sending Hermione's hopes plummeting. "What do you think I am, a Puff? Last question."

Hermione sighed. "I can't do anything good with one question!" she said, exasperated.

"…is that your question?" the voice asked, a laugh barely hidden in his tone. "Can you do anything good with your last question?"

Hermione grinned despite herself. "So you're not a Hufflepuff," she said aloud, walking to check behind the last pillar. "And you're definitely not a Gryffindor -"

"How do you know?" the voice asked. "I could just be a particularly clever Gryffindor."

Hermione let out a very un-ladylike snort. "Yeah, not so much."

The voice laughed, the noise bouncing around the empty pitch. "I think you just insulted your own house, Granger."

Hermione rounded the last pillar, and was disappointed to realize that no one was there. Frowning, Hermione walked back out to the middle of the field. "I still have that last question, yes?" she asked, an idea forming roughly in her mind.

"I suppose so," the voice said snidely. "You're lucky that I'm in a good mood, Lion."

That cemented Hermione's theory. Allowing herself to smile satisfactorily, Hermione closed her eyes and listened. In the silence of the quidditch pitch, all that she could hear was her own breathing. Well….that and the faint but unmistakable sound of fabric rustling in the wind. Hermione opened her eyes and grinned. "You're hovering above me on a broom, yes or no?" she asked, reveling in the voice's shocked silence.

"How could you tell?" the voice asked quietly, and Hermione could hear the "whoosh" noise of a broom gliding through the air, heading for the ground.

"I'm good at listening," she said smugly, watching a cloaked and hooded figure come to rest on the pitch beside her. "It's a side effect of spending too much time hiding in silence."

The hood that her mystery-voice-man wore disturbed Hermione; although it was just a Hogwarts student robe, there was no house-colour trim. Rather, the robe was just a solid black. It reminded Hermione far too much of the Death Eater robes, and she had to suppress a shiver. "Can you pull down your hood, please?" she asked quietly, spinning her wand lightly at her side.

Dismounting, the figure reached a hand up to the back of his hood. His shoulders were slumped, and Hermione thought that the man looked defeated, almost morose. When the man dropped back his hood, Hermione gasped. The bright blue eyes of Draco Malfoy glared balefully back at her, challenging Hermione to say something to break the tense silence. His blonde hair was no longer slicked back with copious amounts of gel, but was left to hang loosely around his face, and his robes seemed to hang off of a far-too-thin frame. Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times. MALFOY!? her mind shrieked. WHAT THE HELL IS DRACO MALFOY DOING HERE?

"Miss Granger," Draco said politely, inclining his head slowly. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

Malfoy's cordial remark snapped Hermione out of her stunned silence. "Mister Malfoy," she said slowly, tilting her head. "What brings you to Scotland?"

Draco's lips quirked up into a strange half-smile. "Why, I'm here for the same program as you, I'd expect," he drawled. "I'm here to re-do my last year."

"You?" Hermione hissed, letting her emotions get the better of her. "Why on earth would you choose to re-do your last year? I'd have thought that the previous administration would have been perfectly suited to the kind of education you wished to receive."

The pained expression in Draco's eyes made Hermione instantly regret her words. "Well," Draco said far too quietly, using none of his usual sarcasm, "I guess I'm just full of surprises."

Hermione hung her head, a blush rapidly colouring her cheeks. "Umm, right," she said awkwardly, reaching over to pick up her trunk. "Do you need to go back to the castle?"

Snapping his head up, Draco's eyes regained their steely, aloof expression. But, in Hermione's opinion, his expression wasn't quite as arrogant as it used to be. There was something sad, something buried deep within those eyes that Hermione couldn't quite place.

"I had planned on returning to the castle, yes," Draco answered, his expression neutral. "I'm not really one for sleeping outside. May I accompany you to the Tower?"

Hermione was confused. How would Draco get access to the tower where I'm staying? I know it's not Gryffindor Tower, but still….

Picking up on Hermione's confusion, Malfoy quickly added "All the eighth-years are staying in what McGonagall has named 'Unity Tower'. Since there are so few of us, we're all rooming together and are given no house allegiances."

A light bulb went off in Hermione's head. "That's why your robes have no coloured trim!" she exclaimed. "We're house-less this year!"

Malfoy nodded. There was a long moment of awkward silence before Draco said, "Well, shall we?" and started up the path to the castle.

Hermione followed after him hurriedly. The unlikely pair walked together in silence, Hermione swinging her trunk, Malfoy holding his broom rigidly at his side. When they were moments away from the main doors, however, Hermione let out a seemingly spontaneous giggle. Draco stopped stiffly and turned to face her. "What's so funny, Granger?" he asked, arching a single blonde eyebrow.

Giggling uncontrollably now, Hermione wiped away tears that were forming at the base of her eyes. "Unity Tower?" she gasped. "Who came up with that atrocious name?"

The tension left Draco's expression, and the Slytherin involuntarily allowed himself a small grin before turning to open the main door. "Better than "The Tower of Friendship"," he supplied, before winking and walking into the hallway.

Pausing before she followed her year-mate, Hermione's eyes grew wide. Did Malfoy just make a joke? And then did he wink at me? Good grief, can't we ever just get a normal year at Hogwarts?

And with that, Hermione followed her former enemy into the place that she had always considered her true home.