A/N: Ok, let me start off by saying this is my first fanfic, so please go easy on me, though constructive critisism is very welcome. So I know that the whole Head Girl/Head Boy thing is a bit overused in the Dramione fandom, but I have some ideas for a few chapters in that will hopefully make this stand out a little. Anyway, As the title suggests, this fic was kind of inspired by the song "Angel With A Shotgun" by The Cab - it just really describes Dramione to me. So enough of me talking, please enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Harry Potter. Shocking, huh? :p

Chapter 1

"Hermione?" Hermione's brain barely even registered the voice. She was lost in the darkness of her mind. She could feel the phantom of the knife, the memory of the pain was sharper than the actual blade had ever been, and her ears rang with her own screams. And through it all, she saw him. Saw him watching, doing nothing. Tears stung behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She hadn't let them fall so far, and she wasn't planning to start now.

"Hermione, please, this is getting ridiculous." The voice penetrated this time, and Hermione's head snapped up as she crashed back to reality. The sensation felt like a vertigo attack as memories and phantom screams disappeared, leaving in its stead a train compartment and the concerned face of a redheaded witch.

"I'm sorry?" Hermione asked, clearing her throat when her voice rasped slightly.

Ginny raised a single eyebrow. "Hermione, you've been staring out of that window for the past hour, ignoring anything I say to you, and you've been clenching your jaw and your fists like you had a bet with yourself on which would break first."

"Sorry Gin," Hermione muttered, shoving a wayward brown curl out of her face. "I'm fine."

Ginny folded her arms, unconvinced.

"Really Gin, I'm fine," Hermione lied again, "I was just lost in thought. I'm fine." She shrugged, wondering how many times she would have to repeat the words before they actually became true.

Ginny sighed collapsing into her own seat. "I know the war was hard on you 'Mione, probably harder than on most, but you're really starting to worry me. Do you have any idea how much of the summer you spent 'lost in thought'?" Her blue eyes were filled with concern, and Hermione felt guilty. She was blocking the girl out, which only seemed to make the redhead more determined to get past her defenses.

"I'm just… I have to sort things out in my mind, Gin. I'm getting better - I just need a little more time, ok?" The witch smiled at her younger friend. That much was not a lie - she almost never zoned out anymore, which was an improvement. Usually the memories only caught up with her at night. She and Harry had both spent the summer at the Burrow, and there had been countless nights when Harry heard her tossing and turning through the wall, and had ended up sleeping on the floor next to her bed. Even though she had shared a room with Ginny, the nights when Harry had camped out next to her had been the only nights that she had been able to actually sleep. She cracked a small smile at the thought - her best friend had killed the Dark Lord, and now moonlighted as a nightmare-repellant.

Ginny sighed. "I believe you 'Mione. But…" she bit her lip, and the worry line between her eyebrows deepened as she looked at her friend. It was as if she wanted to say something, but was afraid of how the older witch might react.

Hermione rolled her eyes."Spit it out, Ginevra," she scolded jokingly.

"It's just…" Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "You're still healing. Are you sure you're fully up to all the responsibilities of being Head Girl?"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "You don't think I can do it." Her tone straddled the line between asking a question and making an accusation.

"No, no, it's not that!" The redhead knew that expression all too well - Hermione was about to go into defense mode, which would effectively kill any chance of getting through to her. "I just feel like maybe you would be able to heal better if you weren't under all that stress."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine, Ginny. Besides, you know that other people depending on me is the best medicine for me. I honestly think it's the best way for me to get past this."

Ginny nodded. "Ok, I trust you." There was silence for a moment as Hermione looked back out the window. "So…" Ginny's tone was mischievous as she changed the subject, and Hermione groaned. She knew the redhead well enough to know that that tone of her voice meant she had one thing on her mind: boys. "I wonder who they've chosen as Head Boy." She finished, grinning at Hermione.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm sure we will find that out at the Prefect's meeting in…" she glanced at the clock on the compartment wall, "twenty minutes."

"Well, whoever he is, I hope he's hot." Ginny's eyes glinted with mischief.

"Ginevra Weasley!" Hermione exclaimed, fighting back a laugh at her friend's one-track mind.

"What?" Ginny threw her hands up, grinning. "Just because I have a boyfriend doesn't mean I can't help you appreciate your time without one."

Hermione chose to ignore the fact that Ginny was obviously referencing her short-lived relationship with Ron. After the kiss during the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione and Ron had briefly dated, but had quickly come to see that a childhood crush on your best friend is not always a good reason to start a relationship. True to form, they had fought constantly, over anything and almost everything. While this was normal for them, the strain it put on the budding relationship was too high. In the end, Ron had suggested that they break up in an effort to save their friendship, and Hermione agreed. Seven years of friendship was worth more than two months of romance, after all.

"Whatever, Gin," Hermione rolled her eyes, grinning. "With my luck, it'll be Seamus." Both girls laughed. They continued talking, debating the pros and cons of all the Gryffindor seventh-year boys, then moved on to Ravenclaw. They had just finished with them and were moving on to Hufflepuff when Hermione glanced up at the clock.

"Oh, the meeting starts in five minutes, we ought to go."

Draco Malfoy was the first person in the Hogwarts Express boardroom. He knew he was a good twenty minutes early to the Prefects meeting, but he was desperate to avoid running into people in the corridors. He knew there would most likely be hell to pay when the students discovered that not only was he returning to Hogwarts to finish out his seventh year, but McGonagall had for some reason gotten it into her head to name him Head Boy.

He still could not wrap his mind around that particular decision. He gave an amused snort. Maybe it was some form of punishment. Invite back the ex-Death Eater, and make sure everyone knows that the kid responsible for the death of Dumbledore was back in town. Yeah, that would go over well. His trial had ended two weeks earlier - he was declared innocent. Draco had grown up in a house ruled by Death Eaters. By the time he was four years old, Draco had learned to do what they told him to do unless he wanted himself or his mother punished for it. They had whispered their ugly little lies into his ear his whole life, grooming him to become one of them. As a child, he never stood a chance.

Yet despite having been indoctrinated with their way of thinking for his entire life, the Dark Mark had remained irritated and painful for months, indicating that he had been at least partly unwilling, a fact that he had fought for months to hide from Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. That combined with his unwillingness to give up Potter at Malfoy Manor had convinced the Ministry of Magic that he was innocent, and they only placed him on probation for five years.

So here he was, headed back to the ruined mess that remained of Hogwarts. He'd heard it had been mostly restored over the summer, but there were still areas that looked like they had been hit by a meteor. Going back had been the last thing he wanted, but his mother had convinced him, saying that finishing his education would help him earn the family name back some respect from all the mud his father had dragged it through during the last few years.

Mud.

He leaned his arm against the window, pushing his head against the glass, hard. Pain shot through his head as the memory of her screams filled his brain, shrill and sharp. Bile rose in his throat as he saw her writhing under Bellatrix, blood pouring from her arm. And the blood...it was red. Not muddy. Her blood was a red as any blood he had ever seen.

The door to the compartment opened and Draco whirled. Blaise Zabini looked almost as uncomfortable as Draco felt. He wagered all Slytherins would feel a bit out of place this year. A broad grin split the heartthrob's face when he saw Draco. He crossed the room, extending his hand, which Draco clasped warmly.

"I didn't think you'd come back," Zabini said bluntly. "From the looks of it, you aren't exactly in top condition."

Draco leaned back against the wall of the compartment, still trying to catch his breath from the memory of her screams, her pain, her blood. "I didn't think so either," he said simply, choosing to ignore the fact that Blaise had just walked in on him having a meltdown, though thank Merlin it had been Blaise, not some random student. Or worse, Granger.

Zabini slumped against the wall. "So what gave? And why is the bloody Head Boy badge pinned to your robes?" Draco heard the grin in his voice even though his face remained stoic.

He shrugged. "Coming back? It's a challenge. Malfoys never turn down a challenge Blaise, you ought to know that." He shot his friend a cool look. "As for being Head Boy, I think it's McGonagall's idea of a practical joke." He rolled his eyes. "Merlin knows there's no other logical reason."

"I think you're wrong there, Mr. Malfoy." Blaise and Draco both whirled at the high feminine voice. Somehow she'd managed to open and close the compartment door without either boy noticing. She was blonde, and her necktie indicated that she was a Ravenclaw. Perfect.

"And just how did you come to that conclusion?" The acid in his voice was unintentional, but Draco didn't really care. Acid had been his MO for seven years, and it always worked.

To his dismay, the girl did not react – merely smoothed her robes as she sat down. "It is simple, Mr. Malfoy." He gritted his jaw when she called him that again. "Professor McGonagall does not do anything out of mere spite. She is far too intelligent for that."

Draco snorted, and Blaise elbowed him in the ribs.

The blonde ignored them both. "Though her reasoning may…elude others from time to time," it was only for a moment, but disdain flickered across her face as she locked eyes with Draco before her eyes slid to Zabini. He gritted his teeth. How dare she? "Her judgment has yet to fail us."

His biting retort was cut short when the compartment door opened again and another Ravenclaw then two Hufflepuffs entered. He turned his head to see Zabini grinning at him. "What are you looking at?" he bit out.

Blaise folded his arms. "Nothing, just that her look of scorn is second only to you and Granger."

Draco scowled at him, "Shut up, Zabini."

Speak of the devil - wasn't that the phrase he had heard the Muggleborns saying for years? Well, speak of the devil. The last people to enter were two Gryffindor girls. One was the Weaselette, looking as sickeningly confident as ever, and the other was none other than Granger. Her hair was pulled back into a bun and she was laughing at something the other girl had said. As she moved to sit down, still not seeing Draco, his eye caught sight of a shiny badge on her robe's left lapel. His eyebrows shot straight up.

So he was going to be spending the next year in close quarters with the annoying Gryffindor know-it-all who hated him with a passion? Well, this ought to be interesting.

So that was chapter 1, I will update as soon as I can, chapter 2 is alread halfway done. Anyway, I'll probably mostly follow the normal Head Boy and Girl storyline for a few chapters before I branch off with my own ideas. Pleaase like and follow and reveiw and all that great stuff!

~ The InvisibleShipper 3