A/N: This is my first story I've ever decided to publish. I'd like to thank my beta chrissytingting, as well as Darksaber3434 for being my slavedriver and not allowing me to abandon it. Thanks guys :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even my house. All characters, settings, creatures, et cetera belong to the highly talented J.K. Rowling, I've just borrowed it for awhile.

Dear Harry,

I know you don't understand why I'm leaving, but it's something I feel I need to do. I'm just not cut out for all of the fame that comes with being your friend and a member of the Order.

So much has changed since we started school together. I would love to say that we're the same two friends we were at Hogwarts, but without Ron to complete the group,we're just lost. I hope you find happiness here in England while I couldn't.

After last year, I can't bear to visit any of the sights I used to love, everything reminds me of him. If I stay here I know I will truly go mad. I love you Harry, and I hate to leave you … but I have to.

Love, Hermione

Hermione Granger sighed and wiped the few tears that had fallen on to the parchment. She folded the letter to her friend and placed it in a crisp white envelope. As she attached it to Pigwidgeon, the tiny owl that once belonged to her friend, and almost-lover, Ron Weasley, she effectively sealed off the last link to her past. The bushy-haired witch allowed herself to shed a few more tears before sending the owl off, and whispering a soft goodbye to who she used to be.

Draco Malfoy cringed as he watched the Hogwarts Express pulled into the platform. He hoped his mother appreciated the fact he was coming back to a place full of people who probably hated him. She had always insisted that he finish school, even when he was chosen by the Dark Lord. She was furious when he had to leave after Dumbledore's death, going as far as to visit his father in Azkaban and blaming him for ruining their son's future. He climbed onto the train and opted to walk past the compartments of his former classmates, Parkinson especially. He finally found what he was looking for, an empty compartment. As he sat down, his mind was flooded with the last memory of his mother.

She lay on the battlefield that used to be the Great Hall, he rushed over to her, not caring about the bodies of fallen Death Eaters and Order members. He didn't know which ones were dead and which were stunned. He saw his aunt laughing and that filthy mudblood looking horrified, and watched as Bellatrix raised her wand to curse the youngest Weasel, but her brother dived in front of the curse: falling on the battlefield. Granger ran for him, but his mother beat her there, aiming what was probably her first Unforgivable Curse right at the mad, twisted face of Bellatrix Lestrange.

He looked back down at his fallen mother who was currently struggling to breathe. He saw a very familiar blade made of silver that he hadn't seen since earlier in the year when it was used to kill his former house elf… It was sticking out of his mother's barely-rising chest. He struggled to keep a cold demeaner as he watched her gasp for air and dropped to his knees.

"Draco… we were wrong," she struggled to say, "finish what I've started today; this war is ridiculous."

He pulled the blade out of it's bloodied sheath in her flesh and held her close as she coughed her final few breaths. He managed to choke back tears for the woman who had raised him, opting to send the Lestrange dagger skittering across the floor. Soft hands wrapped around his arms and pulled him away, and he held on tighter to his mother's body, allowing himself to be led out of the castle. He finally came to a stop at the remains of the groundkeeper's hut. He turned around to see who had helped him, but her bushy head was already running back into the castle, presumably to rejoin her comrades.

It was at that moment he knew why his aunt's blade was sticking out of Narcissa Malfoy's chest: she'd died to save the mudblood, Hermione Granger. He asked himself why the only person who actually cared about him would give her life to someone like that, before passing out from shock on the ground where she lay.

He was pulled out of his memories by the sound of heels clicking down the train and his compartment door sliding open. He looked up to see a girl, no, a woman, with long curly blonde hair and bright green eyes. In all of his years of attending Hogwarts he knew he had never seen her before. It was a big school – but not that big.

"Oh, je suis désolé, j'ai cru que ce compartiment était vide!" the mystery woman exclaimed.

"I don't speak French," he said, even though he spoke it perfectly, at his mother's insistence. He just wanted to make her uncomfortable.

As his father had always taught him, a Malfoy must always have the upper-hand in any situation. He realized he had just acted like Lucius again, and felt like a git for potentially hurting the first person who didn't know who he was in a long time.

"Oh, sorry, it's a habit. I'm going to go find an empty compartment," she smiled and started to slide the door closed again.

Before she could slide the door very far, he motioned for her to sit down. He turned his head and gazed out the window, returning to his thoughts. Instead of returning to his mother's last stand, they went to the mysterious woman instead. He wondered how a woman he'd never seen before ended up on the train to Hogwarts: one who spoke fluent French as well as perfect, unaccented English. He glanced over to make sure the woman was real, and wasn't something his troubled mind had concocted as company. She was an enigma and he was determined to figure her out before the train reached Hogsmeade station.