Hello out there!
I am Dollhouse Dancer. Two years ago I went on a magically-inspired writing binge and created a story that I called Harry Potter and the Boy Who Got Away, which I posted here. A few days ago I decided to go back and reread my story (which was much more enjoyable than I expected. It turns out that I really enjoy my own writing, even though I know what's coming!) and I came across a little drabble that I started but never quite finished. It is unconnected to my previous story and much shorter, and follows Hermione and Draco as they return to Hogwarts for their eighth year. I am working on finishing it now, and decided that it is worth posting. So here it is: the story of what began on the Hogwart's Express on the first of September, 1999.
Hermione stared out the window of the train. She had purposely chosen a compartment on the far side, facing away from Ron and Harry waiting on the platform. She had said her goodbyes and she couldn't bear the thought of having to watch them fade into the distance as the train pulled away. Returning to Hogwarts without them was frightening enough as it was.
She smiled as she examined the present Ron gave her before she boarded. It was a small golden locket. The inside was enchanted to display a continuous loop of images. From each one her own face, next to Ron's and often Harry's, peered out as the tiny figures waved and smiled.
"To make sure you can't forget me," he had said. She grinned.
"I could never forget you."
But despite this, she was nervous to go back to Hogwarts. True, Luna and Ginny would be there, and in fact, Hermione would now be in their year. But the rest of her friends had graduated or moved on to work in the Ministry. She couldn't help but think that she would be terribly out of place, an eighth-year student taking seventh-year classes.
Hermione was so absorbed in her thoughts that she barely registered the sound of the compartment door sliding open. She looked up as the intruder inhaled sharply.
"Sorry," he mumbled, his face to the floor, "I thought it was empty." His blond hair hung limply down, obscuring his face. "I'll go."
Hermione stood and opened her mouth. Before she could get anything out, the intruder raised his head, glancing into her eyes for a moment before looking away.
"Thank you." Hermione had to strain to hear Draco's words. "For saving me. And for speaking at my trial. I would be dead or locked up without you and Potter." He turned to slide through the doorway.
"Wait," Hermione said softly. Draco stopped, his hand on the door. She took a deep breath, almost afraid of her next words. "You can stay. I'm all alone in here, there's plenty of room."
Draco turned back to face her. Not quite making eye contact, he nodded. "Thanks."
Hermione settled back in her seat, the locket tucked safely away in her pocket. She opened her book and turned to lay her legs across the long bench, sneaking a glance at Draco. She couldn't help but think that he looked sick, and tired. His eyes were sunken, and there were large dark circles around them. He was even more pale than usual, paler than a human should ever be. He was dressed smartly as always, but his hair hung loose and limp across his face. As she watched he sunk into the bench and closed his eyes.