Disclaimer:In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.

PROLOGUE

"Draco? Are you alright, dear?" Narcissa asked as she reached up to gently cup her son's cheek with her hand. She worried for her son, and rightfully so after all that had happened that past year. Despite her many protests, Draco had made the decision to return to Hogwarts for an eighth year.

He looked at his mother with one eyebrow raised. A questioning hum sounded in the back of his throat before her words registered in his mind.

"Mother, I'll be fine. It's only Hogwarts," he insisted with an exasperated sigh. Noting her worried expression however, he couldn't help the small smile that tugged on the corners of his mouth, and was soon pulling her into a firm hug.

"There's nothing to worry about. I'm positive Snape will alert you should any unsavoryincidents happen," Draco said with a quick chuckle as he finally pulled away from her.

His goodbyes to her said, he turned toward his father. Lucius reached out to grasp his son's shoulder, and Draco reciprocated the action with a soft smile. To them, the simple action showed more affection than anything else and that was how they liked it. Simple, but caring.

"Draco, did you—?"

"Yes, Mother, I did," Draco said quickly, cutting her off.

A rather offended expression crossed her face and he offered her an apologetic look, hoping to placate her. He didn't want all of Kings Cross Station to hear the questions his mother was poised to ask. Before she could bombard him with any further inquiries, the time came to board the Hogwarts Express—a bit of perfect timing for which he found himself eternally grateful.

"I'll be home for Christmas holidays, I promise," he called to his parents over his shoulder.

As he made his way through the crowd, he heard some sort of response. With all the sounds drifting toward his ears as he moved through the throng of students, he found it difficult to tell which words had been formed with the loose sounds of his mother's voice.

He realized he'd departed from his parents just in time, for as soon as he stepped foot in the train, the doors slid shut behind him. Silver eyes roved lazily across the sea of students as he waited for them to thin out into various compartments. It may have been a bit cramped this year, due to the extra hundred or so students coming back for an eighth year, but he supposed that's what would make it interesting.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Draco turned his head to the right as he heard the familiar voice of Minerva McGonagall invading the depths of his mind. His hands instinctively slid into the pockets of his trousers as he turned on his heels to face the deputy headmistress.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?" he asked with a respectful, yet equally bored drawl. Malfoys, masters of ambiguous behaviours of all types.

McGonagall regarded Draco with a stoic expression, remaining silent until all other students had cleared away. Even after the students had gone, she continued to observe him silently; even as the train began to pull out of the station, she simply stared.

"I will have you know that although Headmaster Prince trusts you here at Hogwarts, I do not. If I see any action of yours placing another student in danger, I will make certain you are expelled. Do I make myself clear?" she finally asked, her expression still stoic and quite cold.

"Yes, Professor. I'll do my best," Draco said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet as he steadily held McGonagall's gaze.

She returned his stare unflinchingly. "I do not agree with the decision to make you this year's Head Boy, but it is not my place to question the matter," she stated as a matter of fact.

Without another word, she nodded towards the front of the train and he understood completely. He walked past her and didn't look back as he made his way to the Head compartment. Draco would simply have to wait and see who'd been selected as Head Girl. Honestly he'd rather go find his friends, but McGonagall's word—or nod in this case—was law while at Hogwarts.

Once inside the Head compartment, he spent a few moments looking around before sitting, and subsequently laying on one of the benches. He really couldn't see much difference between the normal compartments and this one, besides the fact that it seemed the benches here were better suited for sleeping, rather than only sitting.

He stared at the ceiling, his mind buzzing with thoughts before his eyes eventually drifted shut. He folded his arms behind his head and relaxed his muscles, one leg bent with his knee up, while the other was stretched out so that his foot brushed against the wall.

The opening of the compartment door was soft, but his keen ears caught it. Even if not for his hearing, there was a very distinct scent that wafted past his nose. He'd know that scent anywhere.

"Hello, Granger."

Instantly he felt a pair of eyes boring into him, but refused to tense at the sensation. He wasn't scared of her. Why should he be? He had survived serving Voldemort, a girl at school was child's play.

"I see McGonagall told you I was Head Girl," Hermione said with a definite huff to her voice.

Draco simply shook his head. "Deduction. No other prefect is qualified for Head Girl. I assumed Snape would either pick you, or . . . . Well, there really is no or, is there? If notyou, I'd lose all hope in his sanity."

"You know Headmaster Prince doesn't go by Snape anymore; not since he became the heir apparent to the Prince family fortune," Hermione pointed out factually.

Once more Draco responded with a simple gesture—a shrug in this case.

"He's always been Snape to me. I've known him since I was a child and if it doesn't bother him, why should it bother me to call him such?" Draco asked rhetorically. Silver eyes opening, he looked across the compartment to see her seated in the middle of the bench on the other side and his breath caught in his throat.

Her. She's the one, she's mine.

Oh, shut up!

It's only one week 'til the full moon. I will come out to play early, don't think I won't.

All the while Draco had this internal struggle, he stared at Hermione.

Merlin, why did Greyback have to change him into a werewolf during that final battle? The Beast inside wanted to react upon impulse as Draco's gaze zeroed in on the way Hermione's pulse pounded gently beneath the skin of her throat. Now switches were flipping all over his mind.

"What are you staring at, Malfoy?"

Draco didn't want to respond—was all he could do to hold back and just watch quietly now. He was still trying to get used to life as a werewolf; now this strange happenstance was thrown his way.

"Nothing . . . Hermione."

Hermione arched an eyebrow towards Draco. Since when did he use her first name? Draco arched an eyebrow right back. His exterior was calm, but he was already worrying over if he had made a mistake.

If there was one thing he knew for certain, it was that he had to get Hermione Granger for himself. No matter how long it took, she would be his.

Author's Note:

Alright, first things first, this is an AU, meaning several things have changed. Most notably, Severus Snape and Fred Weasley have survived thanks to Fawkes. I may or may not touch up on this, depending on how much Draco snoops whilst the main plot furthers.

Secondly, hope that little twist was a pleasant change. I would love critique and I absolutely don't mind if you tear the story to pieces, I can take it, as long as I'm taught something. I hope to have another chapter or two written over the holidays for you guys, and please let me know what you think. I also love to see theories on my story, it's always nice seeing people interested enough to guess ahead! Remember this IS just a prologue, the main story will take place about two years after the events in this chapter.