A/N: J.K. Rowlingis the brilliant mind who invented the Harry Potter world; all is rightfully and respectfully hers (now you can't sue me 'cus I said --er wrote-- this!).
It was the beginning of the trio's seventh year at Hogworts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hermione Granger was sitting on her four-poster, king-sized bed in her new dormitory. All her hard work had finally paid off (not that she'd done it all for the perks), she was Head Girl. She smiled as she looked around her large room decorated in red and gold.
Hermione's smile slowly faded as she came back to reality. She couldn't believe he was Head Boy! Why did it have to be him?! She'd thought Ronald Weasley, one of her two best friends, would have been Head Boy, or at least Justin Finch-Fletchley or Ernie MacMillan. Really, anyone but Draco Malfoy would have done.
Oh, she knew why Dumbledore had chosen him; after all it was all about promoting inter-house unity. Apparently, since the two houses were the worst at getting along (well, who could get along with a Slytherin?), making a member of each house as a Head would set a positive example, which everyone would follow, and blah, blah, blah. Hermione had stopped paying attention --which was very unlike her--right after she found out that Malfoy was Head Boy, because she was so shocked. She remembered the evil smirk he had given as she entered the front carriage on the train. "This'll be interesting, mudblood," he had whispered as he brushed past her on his way out.