Hello! This is my first story, and I hope you enjoy the first chapter ~

Disclaimer: Just to make it clear, I don't own any of the characters in this story. I also don't make money from this story - it's purely just for pleasure.

This goes for all the chapters of 'Transformation' :)

Summary: The war hasn't yet started, and the Golden Trio are back in Hogwarts for their seventh year. Draco Malfoy is also a student, but his summer hadn't been kind. Assigned to watching over the new werewolf, Hermione finds herself drawn. Rated M for the future

As she strode determinately through the numerous corridors of Hogwarts, Hermione's thoughts were all jumbled up and loud in her head, a conflicting war between the logical and emotional aspects of her personality. Not for the first time since she left the classroom, Hermione sighed heavily. Hearing her name called out, the young woman almost ignored the greeting but the ingrained politeness prevented her from doing so. Looking up, the witch transformed her expression to be blank, preventing her thoughts from being superficially revealed.

A young perky Ravenclaw student she vaguely recognised from somewhere bounded up, barraging her with questions over certain lessons. Hermione could feel herself standing up straighter, her brain calming as she slipped into her role. Answering the student's questions one at a time, the witch's lips crooked into a polite smile as the young girl thanked her and dashed away. Hermione was a Head Girl now. Something she had worked her bloody arse off the past couple of years to achieve.. And it was the worst timing. If she was going to be melodramatic, she'd say it was the worst timing ever. But she wasn't going to. That'd be stupid.

Her shoulders shrugged in annoyance, and Hermione continued on her way toward her private room. She couldn't help thinking of the argument she and Harry had just had, a mere half hour ago. Merlin, that short ago? Sighing, Hermione walked up the stairs, stopping at the appropriate times. She was so caught up in her thoughts, she actually missed out other students' calls to her, missed the looks they gave her. Today should have been the best day of her life! She'd looked forward to this very moment, and she should have had Harry there alongside her. But because of him, everything was different. Her face crumpled into a scowl. Bloody Draco Malfoy!

Approaching the portrait that shielded the entrance to her quarters, Hermione muttered the password, her tone and mindset grim. Bloody Malfoy. No, never mind Malfoy. Bloody Snape. Bloody McGonagall. Bloody Voldemort. Bloody Fenrir Greyback! Hermione's lips crooked into a bitter smile. If her friends, if even her teachers, knew what was occurring in her brain that very moment, she was sure they'd collapse on the spot.

Watching as the portrait slid open, the young witch slipped through and stomped her way into the common room area, dumping her bag onto an armchair. The Slytherin she was rooming with was nowhere to be seen, and the brunette couldn't help but raise an eyebrow though she had no reason to be surprised. It was just.. It didn't matter. It wasn't like she was his keeper. She couldn't help but laugh, devoid of humour, as she focussed on her latter thought. Annoyed with herself, with the events of the day, she dropped her tense shoulders and went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. She deserved it.

As she bustled about, she thought back to the argument. She honestly hadn't expected Harry to be so.. Well. Angry. His reaction reminded her so much of Ron, she couldn't help but gape when Harry spat his furious words at her. His accusations had been so sharp, Hermione was surprised that she didn't bleed. And you know what made the whole thing worse? It wasn't the fact that it'd started over Malfoy. It was because she'd put him before Harry, her best friend, and she refused to tell him why. As she'd stood in front of the dark haired boy she'd loved since she was twelve years old, Hermione knew she'd changed their relationship. She watched as Harry's eyes had clouded with disappointment, watched as he took a step backward – away from her – and stepped out the room. She watched, and chose not to share the secret she held in her heart.

Hearing a familiar swish, Hermione's expression tightened and her lips curved downward into an unbecoming scowl. Having glanced up, the female forced herself to turn away and instead poured her tea. She couldn't focus, however. How could she? He was here.

"Granger, you're spilling your liquid."

Glancing down, Hermione watched blankly as the boiling water splashed onto the counter. Angling her wrists, she prevented the kettle from spilling anymore, and without a word, set down the appliance before wiping the water with a cloth, the Muggle way. She didn't reply to Malfoy's quiet murmur, instead pouring out her tea. It was ruined. She couldn't even make herself a cup of tea. Hearing the blonde wizard clear his throat several times, Hermione conceded she was being rude and glanced up. Merlin, she couldn't get used to the change. Hermione stiffened as she felt a physical ache in her chest to see just how much.

He looked.. Not unlike himself, but not completely himself. He'd grown over the summer. She estimated he was around 5'11, almost his father's height. It didn't suit him – he was far too slim for such a frame. She couldn't guess to what his weight was, but even she could tell he'd not eaten well. He had no muscle, but he wasn't soft either. He was sharp, his bones jutting out. He was beautiful, but hauntingly so. His skin was almost ivory, the greyness under his eyes obvious. It wasn't just his appearance that'd changed. He was quiet now. Disturbingly quiet. There was no bite to his words, no superior sneer on his thin lips, no sense of haughtiness about him. He just seemed.. Blank. Un-Draco Malfoy- like. Hermione sighed, ignoring the silence that'd grown between the two of them, ignoring that she had been staring at him hard and obvious. She merely watched as Malfoy's jaw tightened, his adam's apple shifting. She didn't say a word, simply crooking her eyebrow up. If she were to see herself, she'd be surprised at just how.. Slytherin she looked at that very moment. It wasn't only Malfoy who'd changed over the summer. At that look, the blonde wizard exhaled quietly and turned away, heading for his personal bedroom. Only when he closed the door behind him did Hermione relax. They'd only been back at school two days, and already she was struggling.

Seventh year was going to be hard.

Staring at his fingers, splayed out on the door he'd just closed, Draco marvelled. He could almost see the bones, the muscles and flesh thin. Dropping his hand, nauseated by the fascination, the Slytherin turned and surveyed his room. It was plain, but sizeable. As his vivid blue eyes scanned the room, Draco wondered if it'd been manipulated to be larger than usual to tend to his.. Condition. Closing his eyes temporarily, Draco's body swayed slightly as his mind was assaulted with memories. It only seemed to get worse daily, to the point he seriously considered lifting his wand to his head to Obliviate the hell out of himself. Only one thing stopped him, and he could never be sure if he hated or loved the woman for it.

Opening his eyes again, Draco walked simply to the desk he'd secured in the corner of the room and sat down in the companion chair. Once his buttocks made contact with the furniture, Draco leant back and dropped his head backward as his hearing – more acute than ever – picked up on Hermione Granger's actions. He couldn't even muster a sneer as he thought of how his father would react if he knew he was rooming with the girl. Nor could he push himself to feel, as he thought over how he himself would have reacted. There'd been too much change over the past year for him to trifle over petty things. Hermione's Mudblood status was one of these petty things. How could he judge her over her blood, when he was in worse position?

Hearing a clatter and a muffled curse, Draco's thoughts switched to the young witch. She'd changed. He had always seen her as a short irritating girl who fawned around Potter, only noticeable when she was being a little know-it-all. But now.. It was difficult to explain. Before, she had soft features and seemed to have an innocent and enthuastic view on life. Then Dumbledore happened. Voldemort happened. Summer happened. Draco was perplexed at how readily he noticed the change. On how quickly he picked up little things that were now essentially Hermione. He chose to put it down on his change. His senses were more aware now, and he was still learning to control them. It was nothing if he looked at the girl a bit longer than most, especially because he always caught himself in time. At this point, it'd do him no good to find himself in trouble with McGonagall. He was lucky enough to be allowed back in Hogwarts for the final year. With a sigh, Draco's eyes opened and focussed intensely onto the ceiling. He really was lucky. And it was thanks to Hermione Granger. The girl whose life he was partially responsible for destroying.

Hearing faint footsteps heading toward his doorway, the blonde wizard stiffened. He could smell stale parchment mixed with a hint of jasmine. Draco's brows smoothed as the brunette witch passed his door, listening as a door made a 'shh' sound in response to being closed. The young man turned his head toward their adjoining bathroom, but couldn't hear any pottering about. She must have gone into her bedroom. Standing up unsteadily, the wizard walked to his own door and clasped his hand around the handle. Hesitating, Draco sniffed. Hermione's scent was stronger, and he was filled with need to open the door and envelop himself into the smell. It was almost.. Comforting. With that thought, Draco frowned and released the door handle. He didn't need comfort. He was a Malfoy, after all.

With his father's voice ringing in his head, Draco turned away and returned to his desk. There were certain Head Boy duties he could not attend to, so to ensure the wizard did not have too much time on his hand, he was given additional schoolwork. It was a shame he wasn't Hermione Granger. She probably would have worked herself into a frenzy with this. Glancing down, the wizard dismissed the girl from his thoughts as he picked up a quill and got started.

His eyes stinging and his neck aching, Draco placed the quill flat down on the desk and lifted the palm of his hand to the back of his neck, stroking the skin. Lifting his head, the Slytherin looked toward the window and noticed that the stars had come out. He'd lost track of time, so caught up in completing his coursework.

Standing slowly, a husky groan slipped from his lips as his body complained. He had discarded his school robes earlier, and his nimble fingers went to the buttons of his plain white shirt. Within minutes, he was topless, the shirt folded and placed atop the chest containing his other clothes. He'd either put them away later, or most likely an House Elf would wash it for him. Aiming toward the bathroom, he stopped by his bed – situated in the middle of the room, against the wall – and sat, bending at the waist to untie his shoes. The little job done, he arranged them neatly under the bed before peeling off his plain black socks. Folding them, he dumped them on the floor beside the chest, a sign he wanted them washed. Loosening the button of his trousers, he simply stepped out of them before folding them. Lessons you were taught as a child were a hard habit to break. Clad in just his dark green boxers, a colour you could call Slytherin, Draco rubbed a hand over his eyes. Merlin, he was tired.

Turning, he walked toward the bathroom, ignoring the cold stones beneath his bare feet. As he approached the door, he tried the knob and found it to be open. Granger must be asleep. He didn't even know what time it was. Opening the door, he stepped into the bathroom. His mother would have referred to it as 'quaint'. Meaning small. It was practical however, and the young Malfoy had no complaints. Muttering a small spell, he locked both doors into the bathroom and did his functions. As he washed and dried his hands, Draco's eyes were caught by his reflection in the wall length mirror. He couldn't help but stop, stare.

Lifting a hand to his torso, Draco watched as his thin fingers stroked the faint scar that had been inflicted by Harry Potter. It was one of the worst feeling he had ever felt.. At that time. He could still recall how it had felt. Like a knife going into butter. His skin, his body, had no resistance to the invisible sword that had easily sliced into him. The small slashes had healed but the single and final cut had been the deepest. It had almost taken his life. Recalling the efforts his godfather had put into keeping him alive, Draco trailed a finger from the beginning to end of the scar. It went from his left shoulder across his torso, his abdomen, his right hip and ended high on his right thigh. It'd been so deep that he'd live with the scar his remaining life. His eyes flickered from where his hand resided on his hip to his expression. Even as he crooked his head, his expression didn't change. It was neutral. Even as a small 'heh' came from his particularly open mouth, his lips didn't crook. His eyes remained flat. His face remained smooth. Shaking his head, he turned away from himself.

As he walked away from the mirror, he too ignored the scar on the back of his left shoulder. The most significant scar he'd ever have. The most secret scar he'd ever have. It was a scar that was intended to destroy his life. It would never heal. It was the scar of a deep bite. With a sigh, Draco switched the lights off, bathing his body in the dark as he slipped into his bed. Having swallowed a Dream-less Potion, the wizard was soon fast asleep, his brain finally blank.

Thank you very much for reading! Reviews would be much appreciated - your thoughts and opinions helps ~

I'd also like to thank Blackfirm for being an amazing friend and unofficial Beta. Much much much appreciated :)

Beccorsola XxX