Disclaimer: I clearly don't own these characters. That pleasure belongs to the incredible J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Hello, hello, this is my first story, and I decided to make it a Draco story because I've got a slight (ok, HUGE) thing for him.

Read it if you can make it through (hopefully it's not that bad!) and let me know what you think. If you're cool.

Willow couldn't remember ever being more nervous in her entire life, sitting alone in an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express on the first of September. She could feel sweat pooling on the palms of her hands and she hastily wiped them off on her robes every few seconds. The farther the train rattled along as she stared out the misty window, the more her thoughts became jumbled in her brain.

It was bad enough being the new girl in school, but the thought of joining a group of people so closely knit together after what they all had gone through caused a shiver to run down her spine with frightful anticipation. She couldn't imagine anything bringing a student body closer than a war against the worst wizard in the history of magic; just a few months prior, the entirety of Hogwarts had worked together to help the famous Harry Potter finally defeat the Dark Lord, Voldemort. Willow did not grow up in Great Britain as the rest of the students had, but that didn't stop her from knowing exactly what had happened. Every wizard in the world knew of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and feared him just as much as the English and Irish wizards had. Not to mention the fact that the faces of all the heroes, both the tragic casualties and the war-scarred survivors, were plastered all over every wizard newspaper on the globe for weeks after the battle, some grinning never-endingly at the readers with relieved glints in their eyes and some shaking with silent sobs over the loss of their loved ones. Willow expected she knew even more than many had; her father was an Auror, a wizard who worked to catch and punish those who had become Dark. He specialized in the international field; for this reason, he, along with his wife and daughter, never stayed in one place for longer than a year. Willow had switched schools so many times that she never let herself become too attached to anyone, anywhere; she was entirely accustomed to receiving an owl from her parents halfway through the school year announcing their imminent move to someplace entirely different. She had moved from Switzerland to Egypt, from Mongolia to Canada, and everywhere else in between. Only now that Voldemort had finally been defeated did Willow's father, who was entirely loveable but a little too attached to his job, finally let loose and accept his long-called for retirement back home in England, where both he and Willow's mother had been brought up. They had moved back in the home where Willow had spent the first six months of her life, though she couldn't admit to remembering a thing about it, and Willow had received the promise that she would be able to stay at Hogwarts for the entirety of her seventh year. Although many aspects of this were exciting, as she hadn't been able to stay at any school for a whole year since she was thirteen and living in Alaska, she couldn't help but feel as if she wouldn't be welcome. Not to mention the fact that she had received word that she was going to have to go through the Sorting Ceremony during the Welcoming Feast in front of the whole school (with an entire group of first-years!) to determine which House she would be in, which made her flush with embarrassment just thinking about it.

Even just the short time spent at King's Cross Station was nerve-wracking; all around her, people were greeting each other warmly, embracing and telling jokes on the crowded platform, while she awkwardly stood alone after bidding farewell to her parents. After she had boarded the train, she walked past rows and rows of compartments, each full of students who clearly already knew each other and didn't seem to want an unknown stranger joining them on the long ride to school. She had finally found an empty spot to sit, and jealously watched as bundles of girls and boys walked past the open door, chattering happily amongst themselves and not giving her a second look. Only one boy walked alone as she had, his head turned perpetually towards the floor, making it impossible for Willow to see what he looked like. She could only notice that he was pale, with defined cheekbones, a thin jaw, and pale blonde, almost silvery hair. He didn't even glance up once, and his jaw was hardened, giving the impression that he was clenching his teeth. Willow couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't enjoying time with friends as all the other students were, and what had caused the unhappiness that was evident even without a good look at his face.

She forgot about the mysterious boy quickly though, as she stared outside at the landscape rushing by, lost in her own nervous thoughts. She didn't even notice when the pleasantly plump woman pushing a trolley of sweets poked her head through the compartment door and asked twice if she wanted anything before whisking the trolley away with an irritated "humph". Only when the train began to slow down and the sound of opening doors filled her ears did she finally snap out of her reverie. Following the example of the younger students across the hall, she left her compartment, leaving her luggage behind for evidently someone else to take care of. Trailing in the footsteps of everyone else, she walked off the train and into the dark to the sound of a booming voice yelling, "Firs' years, firs' years o'er here, please!" Willow was about to turn her back on the voice and follow the rest of the older kids toward what appeared to be a line of horse-less carriages, when she heard the clearing of a throat and the same voice speaking again, "Could a Willow Prim come o'er here too, please? Willow Prim?" She froze and could see a couple of the students in front of her look back inquiringly, clearly confused over the difference in the usual routine. She waited until they shrugged and turned back around, not wanting them to notice it was her that caused the change in the plan, before turning on her heel and quickly walking in the direction the words had come from.

She was not expecting to see the man standing in front of her. He was gigantic, easily twice as large as the average man, with a scraggly brown beard that covered half his face. She couldn't help but feel a little taken aback, but the pounding in her chest slowed down a little when he looked down on her and smiled warmly. The friendly twinkle in his eye was undeniable, and Willow unknowingly smiled back, all trepidation gone.

"Yer our little new addition, are ya?" he asked, his gruff voice kind and welcoming.

"I guess I am," Willow answered shyly, noticing all the curious looks from the first years crowding around her.

"Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds here at Hogwarts," he reached out a furry hand for Willow to shake. She placed her hand in his, and he shook it with what seemed to be all his strength, leaving Willow to wince and massage her aching fingers after he loosened his grip, "Hogwarts will be the best school yer've ever gone to, I can guarantee it!" he shot her one last reassuring smile, before holding his lantern high above his head and telling all the new students to follow him to the boats docked by the shore of a large, dark lake.

"Four to a boat, four to a boat!" he yelled loud enough so that everyone could hear him, which was hardly necessary, as all the new students, Willow included, had either become silent and begun to speak in quiet whispers, owing to the nervousness in their minds as the Sorting Ceremony drew nearer. After a moment of hesitation, Willow followed three little girls into a boat. They looked at her with a weird look in their eyes, and tried to inconspicuously scoot closer to each other and farther from Willow, while whispering behind their hands. Willow noticed, however, and cursed herself for feeling self-conscious in front of a group of eleven year olds. She could only imagine how strange she looked, the only seventeen year old student in a group of a hundred young children, cramped into a small boat and floating on the murky water, "If yer looking ahead now, ye'll see the school!" she heard Hagrid yell out over the sounds of the children, and faced forward, where the outline of a huge castle was beginning to appear. She could hear the sounds of awe come from everyone's mouths, hers included, at the beautiful sight of the twinkling windows and high turrets. Before she had time to fully admire each aspect of the castle, she felt the boat hit land, and the students began to climb out and make their way towards the large front doors, "This is where I leave yer," Hagrid said, and Willow, panicking, caught his eye. He winked and gave her a thumbs up, his thumb the size of Willow's entire hand. He slipped through the doors and in his place appeared an elderly, regal-looking woman, with sleek, gray hair pulled back in a tight bun and friendly creases in the corners of her eyes.

"Hello, new students, and welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry," she spoke in an elegant voice, sweeping her gaze of the group of gawking children, her eyes resting a little bit longer on Willow, who averted her stare awkwardly, "My name is Professor McGonagall, and I will be your Transfiguration teacher this year. I want to offer you all a warm welcome to your new school, and I am sure you will all enjoy your time here. In a moment, we will begin the Sorting Ceremony. If you could all please get in an orderly line," she paused as the students, terrified, scrambled to form a single-file queue, "Splendid. Now, follow me and we will enter the Great Hall, where the rest of the students are waiting to see you get sorted,"

Willow, who had somehow found herself at the front of the line, wrung her hands in pure anxiety as she followed the professor to another set of large doors, through which she could hear the excited talk of thousands of students awaiting the first feast of the term. With a swish of her hand, Professor McGonagall opened the doors, and the room became suddenly silent. Willow was painfully aware of every pair of eyes in the Great Hall turning to gaze upon her, and she fought to keep her eyes straight ahead and stop them from pooling with nervous tears. She could hear the whispers from either side of, saying things such as, I've never seen her before and she can't possibly be a first year. Only until the group came to a halt in front of a long, golden table behind which a multitude of teachers were seated, did she allow herself to steal quick glances around the crowded hall. She recognized a few faces, mainly those of the infamous "Golden Trio", sitting closely together at a table adorned in scarlet, gold, and images of roaring lions. Comprised of Harry Potter and his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, the threesome was easily the most famous group of wizards of their age, credited with the success in the conflict between Harry and Voldemort, which began when Voldemort murdered two-year-old Harry's parents but was unable to murder him. The three were a year older than Willow, but had missed out on their seventh year on their quest to defeat the Dark Lord, and were now making the time up. Willow felt a pang of envy, having never had friends as loyal as Hermione and Ron clearly were to Harry. Every friend she managed to make at the numerous schools she had attended promised to write often when she moved, and they did for a few months, but, eventually, every one of them lost interest in her and the owls stopped coming. She continued to scan the room, noticing that the table covered with banners of green and silver was definitely much emptier than the other three, and the people seated at it were much more sullen-looking. The boy from the train was there, seated alone at the end, staring straight ahead with his head resting on his intertwined hands, not curiously imploring all the new students like most people were. Willow eyed him, for some reason willing him to move and acknowledge his own existence. His stoic nature was unnerving, especially while the entire rest of the wizarding world was celebrating finally being able to live in peace.

Her gaze was brought back to the front of the room when Professor McGonagall, standing in front of a stool that had been placed in front of the teachers' table, cleared her throat, trying to get everyone to quiet down.

"Now that I have everyone's attention," she began, throwing a pointed look to a couple of girls who were still giggling loudly and waiting for them to notice and quickly cut their laughter short, "We can begin the Sorting Ceremony. As you have all clearly noticed, one of our new students is not a first year," she smiled, and murmurs of you don't say could be heard from every table, "In fact, Miss Willow is a seventh year, and she has just moved here from Venezuela. I would love to have her be the first sorted, but, prior to that, a word from our guest," She said the word "guest" with a smile, and Summoned a pointed, frayed hat that she then placed on top of the stool. Looking around, Willow noticed that none of the older students seemed the least bit surprised, but the first years looked just as confounded as she felt. Watching the hat carefully, she waited for something to happen; finally, the brim of the hat began to widen and, to her surprise, the hat began to speak. He gave a long speech that had the rhythm of a poem, and it revealed to the new students what each of the houses stood for. As the hat continued to sing, Willow grew more and more frantic. She didn't feel brave enough for Gryffindor, clever enough for Ravenclaw, loyal enough for Hufflepuff, and definitely not cunning enough for Slytherin. Before she was able to wrap her mind around all the different choices, the hat had completed its poem to a chorus of thundering applause. Professor McGonagall resumed her spot in front, and she pulled out a long sheet of parchment on which a list of names was scribbled.

"Let's begin with the oldest, shall we?' McGonagall smiled, and Willow felt her heart begin to thud against her ribcage, "Prim, Willow!"

The room was silent as Willow slowly walked up the steps to the elevated platform, and McGonagall motioned for her to take a seat on the rickety stool. Willow did as she was told, being forced to sit and stare out at a crowd of anticipating faces. She could tell from the looks in their eyes that having a new student of her age had not happened before, at least not in their time; they all watched her with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. She gulped and clutched the edges of the stool, while McGonagall stood over her and lowered the hat over Willow's head. She sat there for what seemed like hours, until finally she heard the hat's voice in her ears.

"Hm, difficult," he drawled, and Willow became progressively more nervous, "Alright, I've made my decision," he whispered once more, then, with a voice loud enough for everybody to hear, he announced, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The students at the scarlet and gold table all burst into cheers and applause, and Willow felt herself grin. She walked slowly towards the table, and was surprised to see the Golden Trio themselves beckoning at an empty seat across from them. A bit hesitant, she made her way towards them as the next new student had his name called to be Sorted.

"Hello," she said shyly, as she took her place between two people she also recognized from the newspaper: Neville Longbottom, a round blonde boy with buckteeth, who had slain the snake that had been one of Voldemort's Horcruxes, and Ginny Weasley, a pretty redhead the same age as Willow, who, according to the Daily Prophet, was Harry's girlfriend. From the misty-eyed looks they were giving each other across the table, Willow judged this to be true.

"Hi," Hermione, a brunette with bushy hair and slightly large front teeth, yet a considerable amount of endearing charm, smiled friendlily at Willow, "Welcome to Hogwarts,"

"'Ello!" was the simultaneous chorus from Ron, who was a lanky redhead with numerous freckles, and Harry, who had round glasses, shockingly green eyes, unruly black hair, and, most noticeably, a lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, a result of Voldemort's failed Killing Curse. Noticing where her eyes were wandering, Harry self-consciously covered his forehead as best as he could, and Willow, embarrassed, averted her gaze.

"So, Venezuela, huh?" Ginny grinned, elbowing her side, and Willow explained her father's job and how she had been moving from country to country all her life. The group seemed completely uninterested in the rest of the Sorting Ceremony, and spent the time asking her questions, apparently fascinated. Willow was flustered but graciously answered their inquiries and responded with her own questions, unaccustomed to all the attention, especially from people like them. For a group so famous, they were surprisingly normal, and Willow found that she couldn't stop smiling. They genuinely seemed to like her from what she could tell, and the conversation didn't die down until all the first years were sorted and McGonagall was again raising her voice above the crowd. She gave a few notices, ones that Hermione whispered were "the usual", then waved her wand once and told them to enjoy. Turning back to the table, Willow was amazed to see the largest arrangement of food she had ever encountered. Ron laughed at her shocked face.

"That's why they say Hogwarts is the best!" he chuckled, helping himself to some shepard's pie.

"I bet," Willow conceded, awestruck, though she wasn't entire sure who "they" were. She enjoyed dinner profusely, and helped herself to thirds of every option. Halfway through a particularly delicious bit of roast beef, she happened to look up and notice the glum train boy at the table across the hall, still sitting by himself and not eating a morsel of anything. Eyebrows furrowed, she turned to Ginny and tried to discreetly gesture in his direction. "Who's that?" she asked, and the whole group, completely disregarding her attempt to remain inconspicuous, turned to see who she was referring to. When they turned back, they all had unusual expressions on their faces.

"Oh," Ginny began slowly, looking at her friends, "That's Draco Malfoy," she said, as if the name was supposed to have significance to Willow. As a matter of fact, the name "Malfoy" did seem strangely familiar.

"He used to be my biggest rival here, but after recent…events, we decided he's not that bad after all," Harry said hesitantly.

"What happened?" Willow asked, exceedingly curious, having forgotten about the roast beef still on her fork.

"Well, the Malfoys were known to be extremely Dark wizards, right in Voldemort's inner circle," Hermione whispered and Willow remembered reading something about a family by the same name in the paper, "Lucius, Draco's father, was about as bad as you could get, besides Voldemort himself, of course, and his wife, Narcissa, just about did anything she was told for the most part. They roped Draco into the whole thing, and Voldemort relied on Draco himself to get...things...done here at Hogwarts. Our first couple years here, Draco was completely happy and just acted like your typical bully, but once Voldemort came back, he became scared and depressed. He didn't want to be a part of it anymore. During the battle, he proved himself not to be as bad as we thought he was, but his parents came out on the worse end. They got sent off to Azkaban," she said with a shudder. Willow remembered reading about the roundup of Death Eaters now, and the capture of the Malfoys was a very prominent portion of the article.

"He's alone now," Ron continued where Hermione left off, "His parents are off in prison for who knows how long, and any friends he had are either dead, arrested, or won't speak to him because he 'betrayed' them. All he's got is that Zabini fellow, I guess," he said, pointing to a handsome dark-skinned boy that was sitting a few seats away from Draco and was giving him concerned glances, "but Draco's too upset to really talk to anyone," Willow looked up, a mixture of dislike and compassion swelling inside her as she stole another glance at Draco. She felt bad for him in his situation and for the fact that he was forced into being a Death Eater by his family, but, still, Hermione had said he was a bully. There was no explaining that away. Still, he looked so sad, slumped over in his seat and absent-mindedly stirring the spoon in his bowl, and she couldn't help but feel pity.

"I don't care if he turned out for the better at the end," Neville spoke up, "He still made my first few years here a living hell," he said with a mixture of fury and sadness.

"Mine too, Neville," Harry responded softly, "But I think we should cut him some slack," Neville grumbled something under his breath in response, but didn't retort. There was an awkward silence, followed by Hermione finally standing up and smiling uncertainly.

"Well, as it seems we're all finished eating, what do you say we show Willow to our Common Room?" she said. The rest agreed and pushed away from the table, following her towards the doors. Willow trailed along in the back, unable to tear her eyes away from Draco, who, for some odd reason, seemed to fascinate her. At the last second, as if he sensed someone was watching him, he looked up suddenly. Even from far away, Willow could see into his gray eyes, which were drooped and emotionless. Even so, they seemed to be able to bare right into her soul and he didn't break his stare. She couldn't tell at all what he was thinking and it was frightening; she blushed deeply and looked away, quickly following the other Gryffindors out the door without a backwards glance.

A/N: It's a little short but I always seemed to have a problem with writing extremely short chapters, that's my bad.

Hopefully I did an okay job, though!

Review and let me know what you think, please! I'd really like to continue this story. :)