AN: Got to writing last night and I couldn't stop. I'm four chapters in. This is the prologue.

The Interview

She wasn't sure how it started. Uni was fun and challenging, and she adored her professors, but it wasn't the academic side that bothered her. It was everything else — the parties, the hookups, the all nighters and the fact that she had to brave all of it by herself. Harry and Ron decided against uni, for obvious reasons. She didn't blame them. If her dream was to become an Auror, she, too, would have accepted Kingsley's offer to join the Department of Magical Law Enforcement fresh out of Hogwarts. But, that was simply not the case. She desired more — the chance to explore all areas of study, before throwing herself into a career.

The Academy of Advanced Magic seemed a great place to start. Harry and Ron were skeptical of it, but her parents approved, and so did a mentor of hers, by the name of Minerva McGonagall. It was a done deal by the time application time rolled around. The Academy was, after all, the most prestigious higher learning institute in wizarding Europe located off the shore of Brighton, on the Isle of Merlin. It was, of course, hidden to muggles, and therefore, proved a slight nuisance to students such as she, who belonged to muggle families. Her parents were forced to say goodbye to her at the ferry terminal as opposed to her dormitory; a minor blip to an otherwise fantastic first day. It was on the second day that the realize problem arose.

She wasn't alone in the Academy.

No, Malfoy was there, too, and he appeared to be in five of her classes. If that wasn't humiliating enough, it took him a grand total of four weeks to notice her. Unlike their small, intimate classes at Hogwarts, these classes were in large lecture halls, where hundreds of students from all around Europe were just as bright and eager to learn as she. It was difficult to be noticed when everyone there was just like her and approached education in much the same way.

At Hogwarts, she was a breath of fresh air to her professors.

At University, she was — swallow — average.

It was a difficult adjustment to make, but a nice one, nonetheless. No one at the Academy tried to bribe her into completing their assignments, like they did at Hogwarts. She was completely alone . . . completely . . . alone . . . and it was most apparent on weekend, when the other students took to the campus pub or hopped aboard the ferry to experience Brighton nightlife.

Hermione's roommate — a Ukrainian girl by the name of Dasha — tried to convince her to join the gang on their nights out, but Hermione always declined. There was too much revision to do, too many assignments to complete, and so little time to do it. She couldn't afford to go out like they did — literally. Drink tabs and club fees were expensive.

In fact, the only time she spent away from the books was at work, as a columnist for the school newspaper, and biweekly, to watch Quidditch matches. The Academy had a state of the art Quidditch Pitch, which meant Quidditch was as big a deal there as it was at Hogwarts. Scholarships were handed out to exceptionally talented players, one of whom turned out to be — surprise, surprise — Malfoy. To her memory he was a decent flyer and probably would have been the best Seeker in Hogwarts, had it not been for Harry. In a weird way, sneaking onto the stands to watch her mortal enemy chase that tiny, golden ball was a small comfort, because it reminded her of the old days and proved to her that she wasn't actually alone. Malfoy was there, too — and going by the fact that he rarely joined his Quidditch mates on their nights out, he, too, was struggling to adjust. More often than not, she would catch him huddled in the library, at a table not too far from hers, working himself into a frenzy.

On the rare occasion that he noticed her wandering eyes, she would freeze up and pretend to be fascinated by something on the far wall — fooling no one, of course. Luckily, he seemed to have grown up a little bit and chose not to torment her like he used to. Come to think of it, he pretty much ignored her, full stop. Some days they would pass each other in the corridors and lock eyes for a second, and his lip would twitch as if he meant to say something, but he never did.

Hermione didn't really care. She was too focused on school to worry about some prat — a prat whom she occasionally cheered for on the Quidditch Pitch, but a prat nonetheless.

Winter Holidays left the corridors empty. Most students went home to celebrate Christmas and ring in the new year with their families, but Draco opted to stay at school. In part, because the Manor had been turned inside out and was currently teeming with Aurors, and in part, because he wasn't on the best of terms with his parents. Since the war, they fled England and took to Russia to stay with some family friends and continue living in the lap of luxury, whereas he chose to go to school at The Academy and figure things out on his own. He couldn't put up the façade of wealth and happiness like they did, and he most certainly wanted no part in pureblood society. It was all a bunch of rubbish, and he slowly figured that out in his late teen years.

That in mind, he stayed at school and decided to get a head start on his assignments, whilst the other students were away. It was nice being alone for once — without the Quidditch lads and the shameless 'fans' that followed them everywhere. It gave him time to think and process. So much had changed since the war, and yet, so much remained the same.

On occasion, he looked to the other side of the library, near the largest fireplace, where Hermione Granger would usually sit. He figured she liked the warmth, as it probably reminded her of the Gryffindor Common Room. He, himself, chose to sit in a darker corner of the library, because it reminded him of the dungeons. Perhaps he wasn't the only one searching for some shred of the past as it had once been, before the war and before everything turned to crap.

The thought was mildly comforting.

Naturally, the brunette was in her element. She participated in class and received full marks on nearly every test, but Draco wasn't foolish enough to think she did it effortlessly like she did at Hogwarts. She was always in the library — always — and to his knowledge she never joined that leggy roommate of hers on nights out. He, himself, went out maybe two or three times a week — not nearly as much as the other lads, but enough to keep up appearances. If he stayed in the dorm every night, like he wanted to, the others would start to think he was depressed or something —which he wasn't. Not really.

More often than not, his mates would try to blindside him with a possible hookup and although he was always polite to the girls they literally shoved him into, he never went home with them. It was difficult enough trying to get by in class; he didn't need to added pressure of sleeping with a different girl each night. To be honest he'd only slept with one girl in his life, and she was now off somewhere in Paris, attending art shows and drinking champagne with her French boyfriend. He was happy for her, sure, but she had moved on rather quickly.

It was no matter.

There was no time to fret over Pansy Parkinson. He paid little attention to her when they were together, and he doubted very much that his behaviour would have changed, had they continued their weird little relationship. She had every right to move on as blindingly fast as she did. It was a mutual decision to split up anyway. Long distance would never have worked. What with school and Quidditch and his new job at the campus cafe, he barely had time to blink, let alone maintain a healthy relationship.

Speaking of Quidditch — he loved every minute of it. There were few things in life that relieved his stress faster than soaring around the Pitch on his Nimbus 2001. In some ways, it was the only part of uni that he really, truly enjoyed. High in the sky, he was reminded that his problems were fleeting, and that none of it really mattered. Not his dwindling bank account. Not his parents. Not Pansy. Not even the tight feeling in his gut when he caught sight of Hermione Granger in the stands below. She thought she was being stealthy, he was sure, but there was no mistaking that periwinkle blue knit cap that she always wore in the cold. He remembered it from the Quidditch matches at Hogwarts, back when she used to cheer for her Gryffindor friends. None of them were smart enough to get into The Academy, but for some reason, she still cheered. It took him a couple matches to realize she was cheering for him.

How bizarre.