Author's Note: This is my first Fanfic ever, and I couldn't be more excited to write it and share with you all! This is going to be purely a Dramione fanfic written in primarily Hermione's point of you. I'm giving this an M rating as I will be exploring dark themes and including graphic scenes as well further into the story. The story picks up right after the end of the war; Voldemort is dead, and the wizarding world is finally back to normal. All characters will be original and belong to J.K. Rowling, save for a few of my own creations in the story. I hope all of you enjoy reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it! Thank you.

Disclaimer: All characters (save for a few of my own) belong to J.K. Rowling.

Chapter One

As Hermione Granger strolled along the corridor to her Transfiguration class, she mentally noted that she had three minutes to spare before class started. At that, however, she had to scoff at herself. Hermione Granger was never late, she was always punctual.

Transfiguration...

The reminder of her going to class made her sigh contentedly. An aura of normalcy had finally returned to the hallowed halls of Hogwarts now that the war was finally over. Hermione and the other seven years were invited to return along with the lower years now that the castle had been completely restored to its original grandeur. It seemed that Hogwarts had not been touched when in reality it had. Along with the castle, its students had been affected greatly as well.

Harry Potter was now indefinitely the Boy Who Lived as vanquished Voldemort and miraculously saved the wizarding community. After the war, Harry spent three weeks at St. Mungo's watching over Ginny Weasley, his ever faithful girlfriend, who suffered a nasty illness at the hands of a dark curse fired at her during the battle. Now that Ginny was released, Harry had decided to return to Hogwarts to continue his studies as a seventh year along with Hermione.

Ron Weasley, the other third of the Golden Trio, had decided not to continue his seventh year has the entire Weasley family deemed it best. They unanimously agreed that they all needed time to find closure over the death of their beloved Fred. Ron promised to both Harry and Hermione that he would write regularly to them during the school year.

The casualties suffered by the Light side after the war were devastating, but those suffered by the Dark side were far worse. At the end of Voldemort's reign, the leftover Death Eaters were collected by the Ministry and put on trial for their crimes. Most were sentenced to a life of imprisonment in Azkaban or received the Dementor's kiss. Such was the fate of the renowned Parkinson and Greengrass families, save for Pansy, Astoria, and Daphne, who all fled to France and the Netherlands to escape the inevitable harassment and judgment they would suffer at the hands of being connected to such elite pureblood families who supported Voldemort. Crabbe had died during the war, but his father was sentenced to life in Azkaban along with Goyle and his father. Blaise Zabini and his family relocated to their native home in Italy; they were neutral during the war but deemed the relocation necessary as they would undoubtedly be frowned upon by the wizarding population as being one of the formerly elite pureblood families. The Malfoys, who were perhaps considered the most staunch pureblood elitists and dedicated followers of Voldemort, suffered equal if not harsher punishments. Lucius Malfoy was naturally imprisoned in Azkaban and set to succumb to the Kiss in a matter of weeks; Narcissa, who remained ever faithful to her husband, fought relentlessly for her husband's release but was imprisoned as well; and Draco Malfoy, to the shock of the entire wizarding community, had renounced his parents and cleverly proved himself to be innocent of all his supposed Death Eater activities to the Wizengamot and was freed from all charges laid against him.

Miraculously enough he was seated in the very last row of Hermione's Transfiguration classroom.

Hermione couldn't help but admire him for his willingness to return to Hogwarts. Naturally, he was taunted and jeered at by the majority of the students who returned, as were the rest of the Slytherins who decided to remain at Hogwarts, but surprisingly enough he did not give them the satisfaction of retaliating back. He simply ignored them and went about his business. It seemed as if Malfoy was no longer himself, but purely a shell, a ghost, completely replaced by this constantly stoic other Malfoy. Hermione couldn't help but to pity him a little bit, thinking of him as a poorly misguided boy who lost his way in the dark. However, she still had to remind herself that this was still Malfoy, the same spoiled little rich boy who teased her and her friends during the majority of their years at Hogwarts. The boy who called her that awful, dirty word.

Mudblood. The same word carved into her arm by his deranged aunt. The word that would now haunt her forever.

As Hermione seated herself in the front of the class, she couldn't help but to crane her head back to look at him.

He was perfectly poised in his chair, gracefully positioned with perfect posture, with his long, tapering fingers gripping an ebony quill that was scribbling away on his parchment. He was not donning his Slytherin robes; he wore a clean, crispy white button down along with his house tie, and the sleeves were rolled back enough to see the noticeable muscles of his forearm, craved out by his activities as a former seeker for the Slytherin quidditch team. His perfectly chiseled features, alarmingly pale skin, and downy, blonde hair made him look completely angelic. His brow was furrowed in deep concentration as he brought one of his hands up to brush back some loose tendrils of hair that fell in front of his eyes.

Hermione had to stop herself.

Muscles? Perfectly chiseled? Angelic? You should not be having these thoughts about Malfoy... The boy who harassed you for years and called you a mudblood.

Hermione brushed her ludicrous thoughts away long enough to closely pay attention to Professor Ribthorn's lesson (Professor McGonagall was now Headmistress) and take notes diligently. Her work ethic remained the same as it had always been.

Towards the end of the class period, however, she couldn't help but steal another glance at Malfoy.

He had just finished packing his materials into his satchel and was now scrutinizing his shirt and picking off- what? Imaginary dust?- something off of his sleeve. That is, until he glanced upward to meet Hermione's gaze. Hermione slightly gasped as his molten grey eyes met her chocolate brown orbs. She became unnerved by this but was compelled to not look away. There was something about his eyes... Something so haunting yet so pleasantly electrifying that sent goosebumps up her arms. His gaze was calming yet frightening... Yet it didn't reveal anything at all. No emotion. Whatever secrets he was hiding, they were being well kept.

As quickly as she had met his gaze, Malfoy grabbed his satchel and strode from the room as the other students began to shuffle about as class had ended. Hermione was brought back to reality as she found herself somewhat breathless from what just occurred. She brushed it off, smoothed her shirt, straightened her tie, and collected her things. She had to forget about Malfoy; after all, it was lunch time, and Harry was waiting for her in the Great Hall.

Harry.

Her best friend.

Hermione smiled to herself and left the classroom, briefly forgetting about her prior experience and continuing her way down the hall.