Hello friends! Here I am, finally rewriting this story!

I started it FOREVER ago, and then gave up on it forever ago as well. It has HAUNTED me since I officially made up my mind to stop writing it, so I made the decision to start working on it again! However, I am a VERY different writer than when I first started this story, and a different writer still than when I stopped working on it, so I have decided to start it over instead of pick it up from where I left off. The story will keep the same feeling as before (mainly fluff and what not), but my writing, hopefully, is better XD

In any case, I really hope you enjoy this story. I'll be updating it regularly (either once or twice a week... I haven't decided yet), and I'm determined to see it through.

It's a Seventh Year AU, where Voldemort was defeated at the end of Fourth Year :)

Disclaimer: I own none of J.K. Rowling's story or work. I'm just here to write a fun little story (and this disclaimer goes for the entire story, not just the first part)

Part 1

Hermione Granger was done. Absolutely, positively done. Her head throbbed with a dull ache, so she gingerly rubbed her temples with her fingertips, trying to ignore the whimperings of the redhead who sat beside her.

"Hermione," Ron whined, scooching closer to her. They were at one of the many long tables in the library. Hermione was pouring over her Advanced Ruins notes; Ron was… well… he was supposed to be doing his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. "Snape will skin me if I don't turn this in tomorrow. I already got an extension on it, and I can't ask for an—"

"Then don't ask for another one," Hermione said curtly, turning to glare at him briefly before going back to her notes.

He wasn't deterred. "Come on, 'Mione. You have to help me!"

That was the final straw. Hermione snapped her book shut, not caring as Ron flinched at the sudden loud noise that echoed through the library. "I don't have to help you with anything, Ronald!" she said, her chest rising in anger as she grabbed her book and her notes and began shoving them in her bag.

"Wait, where are you—" Ron started talking as Hermione stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder. He didn't get to finish his sentence.

Hermione leaned over him, jabbing her finger to his chest. "I've been helping you with your homework for seven years. Well? Guess what? You are a grown wizard! Figure it out yourself. I'm done."

The expression on Ron's face fell, and for a moment he looked so sad that Hermione almost apologized. But then she remembered what she had been yelling at him about, and any inkling of remorse that she felt was thrown away. She gave him one final glare before turning on her heel and striding out of the library. Of course she was aware of the many eyes watching her. She was aware that by dinner tonight, the whole school would know of her outburst. The rate that gossip traveled in Hogwarts was astounding, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

She was quick to walk through the halls of Hogwarts, unsure as to where she was going. For once, she was annoyed by the winding corridors and shifting staircases. All she wanted was to blow off some steam, and the castle felt altogether too stuffy and frustrating.

Turning a corner with no regards for the speed at which she was walking, she smacked straight into someone's chest. There was no ceremonious fall—no spilled book bags—just a surprised grunt from whomever it was that Hermione ran into and sturdy hands that gripped her shoulders to keep her steady.

"Oi. Watch it," Hermione said, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her fingertips before looking up to glare at the person in her way. She groaned as she caught the eyes of Draco Malfoy. "Not you too," she said, shaking her head at the stunned expression on his face.

"Not me too?" he asked, his hands dropping from her arms and to his sides.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Not in the mood for dealing with you right now. Come back tomorrow, yeah?" she said snarkily before shouldering past him and resuming her pace from earlier. With as much sarcasm as she could muster, she shouted, "Cheers," behind her, not bothering to stick around for a response.

Her stride became a trot, and soon she was passing through the large doors of the castle to the outside. Once she was out, her trot turned into a full-blown sprint. She didn't care where she was going. She just needed to run.

So she ran. She ran until sweat stuck her uniform to her skin. She ran until her hair was a tangled mess. She ran until she could barely breathe. She ran until she had absolutely no idea where she was.

Gasping for air, she leaned over, her hands on her knees and her book bag falling to the ground with a soft thud. It took her a moment, but she got her breathing under control and straightened up. When she realized she was in the Forbidden Forest, her stomach dropped just a little.

She was in a relatively small clearing, towering trees surrounding her on every side. Light filtered through the trees, though not much actually reached the forest's floor. The brightest spot in the clearing was off towards Hermione's left where a tree laid on it's side, clearly having fallen many, many years ago.

With an exhausted sigh, Hermione stepped over to the fallen tree, dragging her book bag beside her. She sat down, putting her head in her hands, and her shoulders began to shake with laughter. If she thought she had snapped before, it was nothing compared to this. Her stomach was starting to cramp as she laughed, but that didn't make her quiet down.

No, she didn't stop until she heard an inhuman snort sound from behind her. Her spine straightened and she closed her eyes for a short moment, finally remembering just where she was. She had a brief thought that she was going to die in the Forbidden Forest. The last thing anyone would remember of her is the fact that she had exploded in the library at her best friend. "Bollocks," she muttered.

Well, she wouldn't be going down without a fight. She carefully grabbed her wand from the holster she wore at her thigh before turning around. She needed to see what she was up against. She had to know what was going to kill her, though to be honest she was a little surprised that whatever it was hadn't attacked her already.

Before her stood the most majestic and terrifying beast she had ever seen. A dragon. She wasn't sure what breed it was, but the beast was silver in color, flickering a dark obsidian with each movement. Everything about it gave an impression of value, including the way it stood—spine straight, head raised, wings tucked perfectly to its sides. It was small in size, for a dragon at least, only a bit larger than a hippogriff. However, Hermione suspected that if the beast were to untuck its wings, it wouldn't be able to fit between the trees of the dense forest.

She knew that she should be terrified, quaking in her shoes, but she couldn't bring herself to be afraid. She just let out a giggle, left over from her previous outburst, and shook her head. "What. You want something from me too?" she asked boldly.

At her words, the dragon cocked its head to the side. For what it was, and how dangerous dragons were known to be, Hermione couldn't help but feel that it was nonthreatening.

Ignoring her brain, which told her to get out of there as fast as possible, she followed her gut instinct and sat back down against the fallen tree, turning her back to the beast. "Well, if you're going to kill me, you might as well do it now," she said before stifling another giggle. "You're going mad, Hermione. It's not like dragons understand human languages."

The presence of another living thing always prompted her to talk to herself. She could never shut up around Crookshanks, and it seemed that big, fearsome dragons were no different.

"Well, it's a shame you can't understand me," she said, continuing her one-sided conversation with the dragon. "I'd ask you to sit near me so I could pet you. It would be awful to die by dragon roasting and not get to know what scales feel like."

The beast was silent, though Hermione could feel it move. It was graceful, moving like water as it circled around Hermione's tree and settled near her feet. Her eyes widened in surprise as it placed its head near her lap and nudged her hand with his snout.

"Oh," she murmured, shock still displayed on her features as she hesitantly began to stroke over the bridge of its nose. "I guess you do understand me, then, do you?"

The dragon made a soft grunting noise, and a smile split over Hermione's lips. "So you took my invitation to kill me and ignored it?"

The dragon grunted again. She assumed that meant yes, so she continued to stroke its head.

"You're such a beautiful thing. You must be female," she hummed. The dragon snapped its head up, its silver eyes narrowing on Hermione, though she didn't feel threatened. "Male, then, by your reaction," she laughed, grinning when the dragon rested his head back by her thigh.

She was silent for a moment, marveling over how warm he was, yet how cool the top layer of his scales were. It was certainly something she never would have expected about dragons. Though, she had only really ever done base level research.

"Do you have a name?" She asked, and the dragon grunted. Yes.

Hermione thought for a second before frowning. "I don't suppose it is a common, human name. Is it?"

The dragon heaved a sigh, like that was a stupid question for Hermione to have asked. She supposed that he was right—if he were to have a name, wouldn't it be in his own language?

"Can I call you Sterlyn?"

At the name, the dragon seemed to perk up a little, turning to look at Hermione properly before leaning forward hesitantly. Hermione didn't dare move as he slowly tapped the edge of his snout to her forehead. When he grunted, said yes to the name, she could feel his breath against her hairline. It was warm, but she really hadn't expected anything else.

Even with his giant face practically against hers, even with the knowledge that he could simply open his mouth and kill her with one bite, she couldn't find him threatening. She felt… safe.

"Alright then, Sterlyn," she said when the dragon finally backed up a little. "Do you know your way out of the forest? I'm afraid I'm a little lost."

The dragon stared at her for a moment, it's expression one of mirth and amusement, before grunting. Yes.

/-|-/-|-\-|-\

Ron was in the common room, sitting at a small table in one of the corners, when Hermione got back. He had parchment spread out in front of him, and he was writing almost lazily. He raised his eyes when she passed, and even gave her a small smile, which she returned. He didn't ask for help, so Hermione went straight up the stairs to her dorm room and went to bed.