Author's Note: Beginning of a new story! Have deleted the previous two because I fully don't intend to finish them anyway. Am too appalled by the horrendous style of writing I had four years ago. So this is a new start for me.

This basically takes place when Hermione goes back to Hogwarts without Ron and Harry to complete her final year of studies. I'm trying to fit my story in as closely with J.K. Rowling's epilogue as possible, the only changes being the relationship between Draco and Hermione. I'm not going to reveal the ending to you (haven't even figured that out yet) but I'm sure that you'll be able to figure it out yourselves. So besides the relationship between my personal favourite pairing, everything else has been and will be meticulously researched to match up with Rowling's ending.

Hope you'll like it. Read and review, thanks.

Chapter One:

Back In Hogwarts

Stepping off the Hogwarts train, Hermione Granger adjusts her robes, newly bought just three weeks ago from Madam Malkin's, dusting off a speck of imaginary lint. She looks around, drinking in the sights and sounds and smells of Hogsmeade. A beam spreads across her face as she stands alone in the train station, amidst other students rushing to sit with their friends in the Thestral-drawn carriages. It feels good to be back.

"Come on, Hermione! Let's go!" She turns and sees Ginny Weasley excitedly beckoning to her from a carriage. Sitting with her is a heavily scarred Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, both smiling at her too. "Hurry up!"

If possible, Hermione's smile grows larger. She turns and runs towards the carriage, trying to avoid bumping into as many students as possible.

"Oof!" The swish of a heavy black coat and an annoyed grunt sends her landing hard on her bottom. She apologises as her eyes are still trained on the floor, looking for her wand that has fallen out of her coat. "I'm so sorry, I was-"

"Here." She looks up and sees a long slender hand being offered. Towering above her, his flaxen hair glowing even in the dusk of the evening, is Draco Malfoy. Old memories rush in, causing her head to pound rather painfully. She stares at his expressionless face, and then at his proffered hand.

"Do you want to get up or not?" A note of impatience is disguised by his even tone. His eyes, a cold grey, studiously avoid hers. Instead, he takes to staring at a point a little left of her nose.

She grabs his hand and he swiftly pulls her up. A moment of silence passes between them as students push past them and she notices that he's staring at her robes. Looking down, she spots a patch of grey dust, probably contracted when she'd fallen down, and hurriedly brushes it off.

"Yours." In his right hand holds her wand, vine wood with a dragon heartstring core.

"Thanks," she replies as she takes her wand back, her hand brushing against his cool skin. "And thanks for … helping me up too," she adds hastily, a slow blush creeping up her neck.

The two stare at each other for a little while, both old enemies in a past that seems so distant. Hermione knows that he's changed, but still can't help but feel a slight trepidation around him. Too much has happened between the both of them, and he knows it too. The sound of a bell ringing interrupts the brief and awkward reunion.

"Better catch the carriages then," he quietly says before abruptly turning around and striding towards the nearest carriage, in which sits a subdued Pansy Parkinson talking in hushed whispers to Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini. Hermione watches as he climbs up the carriage and seats himself beside the haughty-looking Zabini, who narrows his eyes at her before engaging in conversation with the blond boy.

"Hermione, come on!" Ginny calls for her again, this time with a hint of urgency. Her brown eyes tear themselves away from the carriage bearing the four Slytherins as she hurries over, hopping on just as the Thestrals start moving.

She can see the Thestrals now, having seen death occur before her very eyes in the war. Their leathery wings, folded by their sides. Their skeletal bodies. Their dragonish faces and long necks. As the Thestral pulls the carriage out of the station, faces flit across her mind's eye. Lupin. Tonks. Fred. Mad-Eye. Snape. All those perished in the war.

"It's pretty creepy, don't you think?" Ginny whispers, not wanting to be heard.

"I think they're quite pretty," Luna replies dreamily while burying her nose in a thick hardcover book.

Hermione smiles absently. She looks at her three companions; the only three who've decided to come back to Hogwarts after the war to complete their studies. She knows that she wouldn't care if she had to go back to Hogwarts alone to complete her N.E.W.T.S but secretly, she was glad for the company.

The gates of Hogwarts are in view now. Her heart is thudding hard against her ribcage; she's unable to contain her excitement. For the second time in the dark evening, she grins.

It does feel so good to be back.

--

In the Great Hall, the level of noise is slightly lower than previous years. Some of the older students proudly bear battle scars on their arms and faces, showing that they'd participated in the war that had occurred less than a year ago within these very walls. Hogwarts still looks the same, both inside and outside. The Ministry of Magic, under Kingsley Shacklebolt, was swift in the magical reparations of the school. It was, in his opinion, imperative to continue in the education and honing of young wizards and witches alike.

The Sorting ceremony, presided over by Horace Slughorn, has been done with. The new students, seated in little groups at each House table, all bear the same air of anxiety and nervousness as they chat with one another, exchanging information and silently evaluating their fellow newcomers.

While the moods of the other House tables are relatively chipper, the atmosphere surrounding the Slytherin table is generally somber. There are the few younger students who are chatting and laughing quietly but otherwise, conversations are held in low murmurs. Particularly for the older students, who are seated in distinct little groups, all of whom sport similar solemn expressions.

In the midst of a debate about the magical properties of the Alihotsy leaves, Hermione steals a glance at the unusually grave Slytherin table. Sitting in the middle of the row facing hers is Draco Malfoy, staring intently at the empty plate before him and not speaking to anyone. Blaise Zabini, on his left, is deep in discussion with a burly sixth year that Hermione recognises as a Quidditch player for the Slytherin team that had played Gryffindor in their sixth year. Something strikes her as odd, and she realises that even though Malfoy seems to pose no harm, the Slytherins are consciously avoiding him.

"Hermione? Hermione, are you there?" Neville's voice jerks her from her thoughts.

"Yes, yes Neville, I'm sorry."

"Are you okay?" He looks at her with concern. "Is there something wrong? Do you want me to call someone?"

Quickly, she smiles to cover up for her wandering thoughts. "I'm fine, really." Neville's face lightens up considerably, but she can still detect hints of disbelief so she promptly changes the topic. "I agree with your argument that eating the Alihotsy leaves aren't good since it causes hysteria, but have you thought about other uses? For example, it's not proven yet but apparently wizards are claiming that boiling the leaves will aid in … …"

Neville lets out a small sigh of relief. This is the Hermione he knows and remembers.

--

Nobody else may understand why most of the Slytherins are giving such a wide berth to him, but Draco knows why everybody is leaving him alone. They think him a traitor to the now vanquished Dark Lord, because of his parents' actions during the war. However he couldn't care less about what they thought of him, about what anybody thought of him. He's just here to satisfy his mother, who was adamant in having him complete the N.E.W.T.S. Nothing else mattered more than getting the school year over and done with.

Still, he's glad for Blaise. With Goyle sent to Azkaban along with his father and Crabbe dead, he finds no reason to dumb himself down any longer. Blaise, though they were never really tight-knit, is the closest Draco has to a fellow intellect.

"Apparently the word around is that your parents are thinking of moving because of threats bombarding your house," Blaise tells Draco in an undertone.

He snorts. "What rubbish."

"That's just what I overhear," Blaise smirks.

Draco rolls his eyes in reply. He has been through too much to even be slightly ruffled by the numerous rumours flying around the Hogwarts' grapevine. Zabini is smart enough to be able to distinguish between fact and fiction. Maybe not so much for Pansy and Daphne, but it's not as though he trusts them in the slightest anyway.

"Ahem." A small cough silences the entire Hall. All eyes are on Headmistress McGonagall, who is standing in the middle behind the long teachers' table.

"Welcome back," her voice is cuts through the air clearly and reaches all students easily. "The start of a new year, and also the start of a new and bright beginning." Some Gryffindor students start to cheer but are immediately quelled by one of her sharp looks.

"A bright beginning that, I hope, will begin in Hogwarts as well. The past year has seen us uniting against evil and rightly so, the good has triumphed. Each and every single one of you, no matter what House, is testament to the victory of light over darkness." At this, Draco notices several pairs of eyes flicking over to the Slytherin table, to him. Ignoring them, he continues staring at his empty plate, listening to McGonagall.

"I warmly welcome all those who've decided to return to complete their studies and those who've decided to embark on a journey that will surely change their lives for the better. Despite all that has happened, Hogwarts remains the same and will do so for a long time."

Some of the teachers begin to clap, followed by a few Gryffindors. Soon, the entire Hall is clapping and cheering. Even the Slytherins, normally scornful of such House unity, joins in. It appears to Draco that he and Zabini are the only ones not cheering along.

McGonagall discreetly wipes a tear. "Now, on to more administrative matters. As usual, Mr. Filch has requested a blanket ban over all items from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and 348 items from Zonko's Joke Shop. The list will be on his door, so please have a look when you can. Also, we have a new addition to our teaching staff …"

Draco tunes out, not caring who the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is. He begins to fiddle with his fork, twisting and turning and watching it shine under the bright candlelit ceiling.

"Draco," Pansy turns to him and places her hand atop his. "Are you all right?"

He stares at her hand on top of his, gently caressing his knuckles. Slowly, he moves his hand away. "Yes," was his reply. Understanding dawns upon her face as she realises what he'd meant by that simple gesture of pulling away. She'd suspected that it was going to be this way since last year, but to have him confirm it broke her heart. Tears threatened to fall but she willed them back.

"Okay," and she turns back to the Headmistress who is wrapping up.

"… And so, let us eat!" At her last word, foods begin appearing unto the massive plates set in a row down the middle of each House table. The Great Hall erupts into noisy laughter and heavy chomping as the students tuck in, relishing each delicious morsel.

Draco looks up and is greeted by mountains of roasted chicken and pots of stewed beef and many more. The mouthwatering smell wafts up to his nose and even though he knows that he ought to eat, his body is unwilling. Blaise cocks an eyebrow as he elegantly cuts up a piece of chicken on his plate.

"No appetite?"

A long pause, followed by an almost inaudible "I'm not hungry."

"Well," Blaise turns back to his food. "We'll bring some back in case you get hungry later then."

Another long pause. "Yeah, that'd be great."

--

Hermione consumes the dinner in satisfaction, having only eaten a bowl of cereal for breakfast and a measly Chocolate Frog on the train. Beside her, Ginny devours the food with great gusto, irresistibly reminding her of Ronald Weasley.

"What?" Ginny finally notices that Hermione is looking at her amusedly. "You know I don't normally eat like a pig, but I'm so hungry. Mum didn't make much of a breakfast and Ron took most of mine anyway."

"No, I was just thinking about how you remind me of Ron sometimes," Hermione smiles.

"So," Ginny starts on her second serving of sausages. "Ron coming over to visit you soon?"

Hermione shakes her head as she goes back to her dinner. "I don't think so. He's been quite bogged down with the business. Seems like George is making him work really hard."

"Yeah well, what could he expect? Fred did a lot."

A split-second of awkwardness takes place as the two girls remember Fred Weasley, who'd fought so bravely in the war.

"But since we'll probably have a Hogsmeade weekend soon, I think I'll go visit him and George. You want to come?" Hermione briskly skates over the awkward silence.

"Well, it's still a long way to go. Might meet Harry, but then that means we'll end up joining you guys anyway, so sure."

"Great." She beams, then finishes her dinner neatly. The contents of the big common meal plates change and she makes out a large heap of bread and butter pudding. Her favourite. Even though Hermione is full, she reaches out for some dessert and tucks in contentedly.