A/N: Hello my lovely readers and welcome to my second attempt at Dramione. I learned a lot from Draco, Evolved and I'm excited to start work on another.

Quick rundown on the background of this story. Big changes are that this fic ignores epilogue and there was more to the night at Malfoy Manor which will be addressed later.

This is Dramione. This is rated M. It will earn that rating through language and smut (eventually). There will be some mild implied noncon if that is triggering for you.

I'm big into reviews and will legitimately take advice if I think you have a better idea for the story than I do because I do not have my stories pre-written. I base new chapters on readers' reviews. The more you review, the faster I publish. It's that easy.

That was a longer intro that I ever intend to do again, but I look forward to hearing from you all.

PS: I've had a Beta join me to try and reinvigorate the story. Changes are small, mostly spelling/grammatical issues. Thank you Cat!

~Pooka

Standard Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter Characters, etc. All belongs to JK Rowling.

~Hermione~

Hermione closed her eyes, breathed deeply, then exhaled on a smile and opened them once more. She was finally, finally back.

Hogwarts.

Home.

Ron and Harry had rushed off to their Auror training as soon as they discovered that the Ministry had waived their required 7th year coursework as they had managed to defeat Voldemort despite their lack of education. Ron was proud to follow in the twins footsteps of skipping a year and Harry was pleased as could be that he was able to avoid a year of writing lengths of parchment and taking N.E.W.T.s. Both had tried to encourage Hermione to come with them, but she had turned down the offer. She couldn't be happier to return to the place that had taken all of her childhood dreams and made them a reality. Truth be told, she needed to go back to Hogwarts. She needed that dose of her previous life to set her to rights. The year spent hunting Horcruxes and battling Death Eaters had taken its toll on her, and the toll was far greater than the boys had realized. That year, that night, had taken a piece of her that she had yet to regain. No longer was she the happy, if overzealous bookworm. She was older, wiser, and far more cynical. And now, she was going back to the one place she felt she would truly feel safe again. The place she would feel normal again.

Not only was she coming back to the school she so loved, but she also returned as Head Girl. Another dream come true for the bushy haired Muggle-born. She hadn't bothered to ride in the Prefects' car on the Hogwarts Express, choosing instead to sit with Neville, Luna, and Ginny, all of whom would be Seventh Years together. Catching up with her friends had been wonderful, but meant that she had no idea who the other prefects were this year.

"Firs' Years this way! Firs' Years! All of ye, Firs' Years, yer with me!"

Hermione smiled as she looked over at the gigantic Gamekeeper and Care of Magical Creatures professor. Hagrid was in his element, surrounded by wide-eyed eleven year olds who stared up and up and up at the half-giant.

Following the crowds, she made her way to the carriages that would take the rest of the Hogwarts student body to the Great Hall. Her smile drooped, just a bit, when she saw how many students were either staring bug-eyed at the thestrals or tentatively petting them, as Luna did up ahead.

"You and Harry aren't the only one who see them now," Hermione said sadly.

"Oh, I know," Luna said in her dreamy voice, "I wonder if they like the attention or if they'd prefer for us to leave them alone."

Her rhetorical question didn't make her cease petting the nose of the great black beast in front of her. He certainly seemed to be enjoying it, from what Hermione could tell. The great leathery beast nudged Luna's hand when she slowed her petting and twitched its wings in what, Hermione hoped, was pleasure when Luna rubbed a particularly good spot. The thestrals still terrified her, but she didn't mind them terribly when they were on solid ground. She shivered remembering the manic flight to London to rescue Sirius, so they thought, from the Department of Mysteries.

"I believe the prefects are supposed to be up there," Luna said, her voice pulling Hermione from her thoughts. "Everyone else with a badge went that way."

Giddy with excitement, Hermione made her way to the first carriage. She could make out a few of the other perfects: Cormac McLaggen, Padma Patil, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and… she saw a pale blonde head and froze for a instant. Of course Malfoy was a prefect. He certainly had the grades. McGonagall must have been trying to appease the Pure Blood families since Hermione could think of no other reason to let a known Death Eater become a prefect of all things.

And yet, there he was, sitting alone next to the only seat left.

Naturally.

Hermione sighed before climbing into the carriage. She was met with a chorus of greetings from these people she'd known and fought next to for years. It cheered her some before the ice returned to her stomach at the thought of sitting next to Malfoy.

Mudblood.

She shivered and unconsciously grabbed her arm. She'd worn nothing but long sleeves since that night at Malfoy Manor.

Mudblood.

Hermione shook her head. Bellatrix featured in her nightmares nearly every time she closed her eyes. She tried to be a good, forgiving person even to Malfoy since he had seemed repentant. She tried to remember that he refused to identify Harry at the manor and Harry swore the Malfoy wouldn't have killed Dumbledore that night in the tower, but found it hard to get past the memories from the first time she'd ever been called that word to that night at the Manor.

Sitting slowly next to him, she held her breath, not sure if she was expected to say something to him or simply ignore him as everyone else seemed to do.

"Granger," he said gruffly with a nod in her direction.

Hermione jumped, then nodded back at him, not trusting her voice to be steady.

Mudblood.

He had been there that night, watching from the corner. She didn't, couldn't, remember if he had looked cheered or frightened or impassive at her torture at the hands of the deranged right-hand of Voldemort, but his blonde hair had been a beacon. Something to focus on in her attempts not to scream as she was put under the Cruciatus curse again and again. Bellatrix had one that easily, drawing sounds from Hermione's throat that she wasn't aware she could make. Sounds that were barely human.

Mudblood.

She massaged her arm again before noticing Malfoy glancing at the motion. Hermione stopped, and looked up at the castle. Hogwarts had been rebuilt at a speed that only Magic could accomplish and it was wonderful if strange to see the castle unscathed, as if the Battle of Hogwarts were just a memory instead of a real event. She lost herself in the thoughts of that night and all who were lost and nearly lost there.