Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. All featured characters belong to the genius, J.K. Rowling. I wish I could say I owned Draco in all his bad-boyness, but alas, I do not. Please do not sue me. Enjoy!:)

-Lonely Solitaire-

September 1998

The rain ran down the windows of the Hogwarts Express in sheets, distorting the view of the outside, which ran by in a blur. Hermione sat, staring out the window. The seventh year felt a small amount of loneliness as she listened to Harry and Ron laughing with their girlfriends (Ginny and Lavender), not meaning to exclude her, but doing so all the same. She missed the way things used to be, the Golden Trio, The Three Musketeers, one for all and all for one. It just wasn't like that now. She tried to be happy for her two best friends, she really did, but sometimes, it was just so hard. Jealousy overwhelmed her even when she didn't want it to, and green just wasn't her color. She was supposed to be supportive and loyal, just like the Hermione Harry and Ron knew and expected her to be. But lately, that wasn't what came to her naturally.

Hermione absently stroked Crookshank's fur and tried to drown out the happiness all around her. She tried to remember the way things used to be, when she was one of the guys and girls and Quidditch didn't matter. Back when getting into trouble was the highlight of the day, and schemes were cooked up between the three of them, and there was never a boring moment when they were together. She loved them dearly, but there were times when she wondered whether or not her presence made any difference to them at all.

Hermione gathered up all the thoughts that made her happy, and allowed herself to smile. After all, she was returning to Hogwarts. She should be happy.

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As she walked through the heavy oak doors and into the Great Hall, Hermione thought, I'm home. Everything was just as she had left it.

"You okay, Herm?" asked Harry.

"Well, actually—" Hermione started, but was promptly cut off.

"Come on Harry, let's find a seat! They'll be starting the Sorting Ceremony soon! I want to see who all ends up in Gryffindor this year!" Ginny said excitedly. With that, she grabbed Harry and began dragging him further into the crowd. Ron had already disappeared.

"Hermione, I'm sorry. Later," Harry mouthed to her as Ginny continued to drag him.

"Sure Harry. Sure," Hermione whispered, but he was already gone, vanished in the crowd. "See you."

She entered the Great Hall with everyone else, and the Sorting began. "Fiona Charleston…" Hermione drowned it out, trying to be somewhere else. Being around all of these happy people was suffocating her.

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As the enchanted food appeared on her plate, she stared at it, feeling even less hungry than she did before. Harry and Ron were off in their own little worlds again, momentarily forgetting her presence, which was just as well. "I'm going outside," she announced to no one in particular, since Ron and Harry were engaged in deep conversation with Lavender and Ginny, who were giggling profusely. It almost made her sick to watch them, much to her dismay. She shouldn't feel this way at all.

Hermione gathered herself up and left the table. Everyone was completely oblivious to her departure, as usual, and she left without making a scene. She stepped out into the September air, the chill sending shivers down her spine. She had brought a scarf, and tucked it in tightly, bundling herself up, trying to keep in all the warmth she could. A breeze blew softly, tickling her cheek and making it sting.

Hermione looked up at the sky, the clouds an ominous gray, and extremely foreboding. She willed it silently to rain. Ever since she was a little girl, she had loved the rain. As though the sky was conscious and had heard her thoughts, Hermione felt the first drops on her scalp. She rejoiced inwardly as it began to pour, soaking her almost instantly.

The girl hurried as quickly as she could to the shelter of her favorite tree on the grounds. It was a beautiful weeping willow, Hermione's favorite tree, and it was near the lake. She loved the water, and had spent much time under the tree, doing homework, thinking, whatever suited her. It was her favorite place, second only to her beloved library. She loved the security of the drooping limbs, which seemed to welcome her and encompass her as she stood beneath the massive tree. "Hey, Willow. I think you've grown larger since the last time I saw you." Look at you now, Hermione, she thought to herself. You've resorted to talking to trees. No matter. It's not as though anyone is here to witness this anyway, she thought bitterly. No even your best friends. You're my friend. She thought to the tree. So steadfast. She chuckled softly to herself, warming her soul a little. She took out a little pocketknife that she always kept with her. Who's going to know? She thought. Hermione carefully carved her name into the tree, her loyal, strong tree. She was reminded all of the romance novels she'd read and all of the muggle television shows she'd watched where the boy and girl would carve their names into a tree, declaring their love for one another. A single tear slid down her cheek as she also remembered that there was no second name to inscribe into the tree. She found herself wishing there were more than ever, and sat down on the damp ground, hugging her knees close to her body for warmth, security, and comfort. All around her, the rain continued to fall, dripping through the leaves and onto Hermione's face, disguising her tears.

"The little mudblood all alone for once? Not flanked by Potty and Weasel? How odd," the voice drawled lazily.

"Oh, bugger off, Malfoy," Hermione said weakly, not in the mood for Malfoy's crap.

"Excuse me," he said sarcastically. "Didn't mean to bother the little mudblood. If you'll excuse me."

"What are you doing out here anyway, without your cronies? I didn't know they let you have time to yourself."

"I don't believe that's any of your business Granger."

"Suit yourself," she said dejectedly, and stood up from the security of her tree.

"Leaving so soon?"

"What does it look like, Ferret?" and with that, she turned her back and left him there in the rain. Without her knowing it, Draco found himself wishing she'd come back. Even if the banter was inane and ridiculous, it was intelligent, witty, and entertaining. Whether or not she was a mudblood, Draco enjoyed her company. What on Earth am I thinking? He thought to himself. She's Granger, for God's sake. Malfoys don't associate with mudbloods. It's not as though we're friends… A smile crossed his lips briefly at this last and completely preposterous idea. He turned on his heal, being thoroughly soaked and cold, and headed back toward the castle, following the footsteps Hermione had taken just minutes before.

A/N: Well? What do you think? This is the first one where I've actually thought out a whole bunch of the story before I start writing. I'm thinking…DM/HG? Obvious. But it's not going to happen fast. Be patient with me, and help me out here people. I hope you like it. Constructive criticism, complements, suggestions…all is welcome. Love you guys!:)

Don't forget to leave a review!

-Ella