Hermione's POV

Hermione Granger sighed and looked out the Heads' compartment window. She was on the gigantic red steam engine headed straight for her final year at Hogwarts. Last year, Voldemort had finally been defeated and the wizarding world was at peace at last, meaning that she, and any other 'eighth years' could finally return and finish off their education. Harry, Ron, Neville, and Ginny were also on the train somewhere. She wondered what they would be doing- Harry would be ogling Ginny, who would be pretending not to notice. Ron would be eating his extra-large portion of cauldron cakes, Bertie Bott's Beans, Chocolate frogs and many other magical foods. Neville would probably have a new plant to show them all; after the war he had thrown himself into herbology. And then there was her, Hermione, sitting alone in the sumptuous heads' compartment, waiting for the elusive Head Boy to show up. All that she knew was that he was an eighth year male, as the top seventh years had been given deputy status. Shuffling lower into hear seat, knowing her parents would snap at her for bad posture had they been here, she pulled a new course book from her bag, entitled Life: The Manual. She began to read, but the slow chugging of the train lulled her into relaxing just a little….

"Oi, Mudblood! Get up, we're almost at school!" A sharp shout woke her instantly, spilling the manual onto the floor. Fuming at having dropped a book, and a schoolbook no less, she turned to chew out her intruder only to see the embossed H on his silver badge. Flicking her eyes upwards, she saw, to her dismay, that the new Head Boy was none other than Malfoy. Why ME? She thought. Malfoy flicked a wisp of silvery blond hair from his grey eyes, smirked at her rumpled state, and left the compartment. Hermione collected her book, muttering under her breath about stupid ferrets jumping from high buildings. Books safely stowed in her bag, she changed into her school robes, ensuring her head girl badge was prominently displayed, and when the train slowed to a stop, she was one of the first off. It was her job to start shuffling first years into the enchanted boats.

"First Years! First years, please line up here! First Years over here!" A line of small, scared looking witches and wizards assembled in front of Hermione, looking up at the castle with timid, round eyes. She did a quick head count, and, everyone accounted for, marched briskly towards the docks. She shepherded the first years into small groups of four, one group per boat. She overheard one tiny girl whispering, "The boats are enchanted to sail magically- this is the black lake, one of the largest magical bodies of water in Europe… I read about it in Hogwarts: A History…" Hermione's lips twitched, and she continued to move the eleven year olds into boats.

"Ello, 'Ermione!" called a voice.

"Hagrid! So great to see you! All of the first years are in their boats and ready for departure. Are you attending the opening feast?"

"I wouldn't miss it. I'd best be off, say 'ello to Ron, and 'Arry".

"Of course. Nice to see you again." With that, she made her way to the thestral-drawn carriages, and sat herself inside the last one, only to come face to face with

"Why the hell are you still here? Shouldn't you be up at the castle?"

Malfoy glared at her. "In case you hadn't noticed, mudblood, I'm Head Boy. While you got assigned to manage the runts, I was posted to carriages. So now that everyone is up at the school and accounted for, I'm taking the last one. It's not like I'm off on a forest killing spree, for fuck's sake."

Hermione knew she had been wrong to judge so quickly, but he got under her skin so well.

"Fine. But don't call me mudblood again, you filthy ferret."

Suddenly he was on her, wand pressed to her throat, hatred in his stormy eyes.

"If you call me ferret one more goddam time, Granger, it'll be your life." He breathed against her face. She realized that his hand had clamped down on her wrist, pinning her wand away from him. She took a calming breath (noticing that he smelt like cinnamon), and shoved him away with all her strength. He didn't budge. He just smirked at her and gracefully reclined back into his seat, facing her.

"I won't call you ferret if you don't call me mudblood. Okay?"

"We seem to understand eachother…Granger."

They rode the rest of the way to the castle in strained silence.

OOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOO

Draco's POV

The self-righteous, bushy haired bitch sat across from him, red in the face from their spat. He would have found it funny that she was so pissed off, but he couldn't believe that she had the audacity to call him Ferret to his face. He hated that nickname, and cursed the grave of Moody, wherever it was. The offensive nickname had stuck to him since fourth year, and he was teased more for it than Pansy "the pug" Parkinson. He had come so close to slapping the witch as hard as he could when he heard her call him that name. The only thing that stopped him was the look on his mother's face if she had seen him about to hit a lady, regardless of her dirty blood. He glared at her, and she rolled her eyes at him. He noticed, with a pang of guilt, that she had a bruise in the shape of his hand developing from the pressure he had put on her wrist. Draco Malfoy wasn't stupid, and he knew that if he was going to physically frighten her, he first had to disarm her. Just because she was a mudblood didn't mean she couldn't cast a spell.

They had reached the great hall, and he exited the carriage, his lordly upbringing requiring him to hold the door for Hermione as she descended the steps. She looked surprised, but nodded in his direction anyway. He trailed behind as she flounced into the castle. His eyes drifted to her ass… she had a certain sway as she walked, making him want to… STOP THAT, brain. He controlled his thoughts and continued into the great hall.

Hundreds of eyes turned to them as Dumbledore announced,

"And now, your head students for the year, Draco Malfor and Hermione Granger!" . The hall erupted into applause. Draco found Vince, Greg, and Pansy, and made his way over to them. Upon his approach, they slid across obligingly. Seated, he watched as Hermione had to elbow her way between Thomas and Potter to watch the sorting. He drifted his gaze down her jawbone to her neck, clapping absently whenever a first year became a Slytherin.

Dumbledore rose to his feet at the end of the feast.

"What a wonderful meal! Now, students, I would like to introduce you to a new teacher, Professor Nettles."

A tall, statuesque blond woman rose and smiled graciously at the scattered applause throughout the hall.

"She will be taking your life studies classes. Now, this class is a new addition to your already busy timetable, and is only for 7th and the newly formed 8th years, those who have returned to sit their NEWTs after last year's poor excuse for teachers. This is a compulsory class for those students, and we hope that there will be no problems caused by the students. The content in this class is rather full on, and if you need somebody to talk to about the experiences you will have, feel free to contact any of the staff. So, 7th and 8th years will be required to stay behind after breakfast tomorrow, and the course will be discussed and… assignments… given out. For now, however, please make your way to your rooms, where you will be greeted with warm, comfy beds and the promise of a new school year! Could the head students please remain behind, and prefects show the first years to their dormitories. Pip pip!" He sat down and looked contemplatively at his hands.

Draco swallowed. This could mean nothing good. Pansy draped herself awkwardly over his shoulder, and cooed in his ear,

"I'll see you in the common room, Drakey." Draco shoved her off and nodded absently, already making his way to the heads' table. He stood next to Granger in front of Dumbledore, and waited for whatever the headmaster had to say.

"Now, young heads, you have a private chamber. It is located on the sixth floor, in the fourth corridor on the right, behind the portrait of Edgar Stroulger. You may choose your own password. Goodnight."

Draco looked at Granger, and they both gave eachother a look of deepest disgust.

"So," she started walking. "What should our password be?"

Draco thought quickly.

"You have a cat, correct?"

"Yes, Crookshanks. Why?"

"My owl is named Ignis. How about Crooknis?"

"Works for me." They had reached the portrait.

"Password, young master and mistress?" asked Stroulger

"Crooknis."

"So be it."

The portrait swung open to revel a plush common room in white, purple, and gold, with touches of green and red. It was spacious, had a massive bookshelf, a large, blazing fire in the grate, and a small kitchen for a little home cooking. It had a sweeping staircase to the upper floor, where there were three doors leading to what Draco assumed were the two bedrooms and communal bathroom. Striding past the common room -with a nod to Granger- and up the stairs, he tried the middle door and found a bathroom the size of a swimming pool, with an assortment of taps like the one in the Prefects' bathroom. There was a large vanity and a shower in the corner of the room. The bathroom was stocked with toiletries and towels in a spacious closet. Draco tried the left door, and found a feminine room coloured in silver and turquoise, with a large Gryffindor banner blazing above the double bed. He quickly called to Granger that it was her room, and pushed into the third door, the one to the right of the stairs. It was obviously his room, as the colour scheme was green and black, with gold touches. The room was almost overpoweringly masculine with its heavy, blunt furnishings and lack of decoration, but Draco was pleased with it.

He undressed into his boxers, thinking about what life skills class would entail.

All this was forgotten as soon as his head hit the silky pillow.