A/N: So, this is my first fic in about twelve years. The whole story is written, and will take place over 5 parts. I'll post them all quickly, but I need to revise each first. I hope the time hops aren't distracting or disorienting, and I'll give you a warning for the one part where there's some adult content (it's not this one). No Beta, so all errors are 100% mind. I hope you all enjoy!

AU, EWE

Disclaimer: I'm no JKR, but I appreciate her letting me borrow her lovely characters for this AU.

December 15th, 1998
After the Winter Ball
Eighth Year

How did I get here?

Tears pour down my face as I hide behind the tapestry in the fourth floor corridor. I hold my knees against my chest, burying my face, trying to be quiet. People are calling my name-Harry and Ginny-looking for me, but I just keep my eyes closed tight.

How did things go so wrong?

And then, there are hands on me, firmly gripping my shoulders, pulling me toward strong arms and a broad chest. My fingers grip his robes as I let him hold me up.

"It's OK," he whispers against my cheek. His breath is warm and tickles the hairs that have fallen forward. "I'm so sorry. For everything, But it's all going to be OK."

His voice cracks and his hands on me shake and I feel panic rise up in my chest.

Not you too.

"No." My voice is scratchy as I look up at him, hard to see in the dark. I scramble so that I am on my knees, my hands gripping his cheeks, scratchy with a day's worth of white-blond stubble. "You can't leave me."

"Hermione." His voice is quiet but I hear in his voice what he means to do. I grip his robes in my fingers more tightly.

"I hear it. In your voice. You're going to try to fix all of this by leaving." I lean in and press my forehead to his, the pain of what just happened dimming as his breath cools the trails of tears on my cheeks. "Please don't leave me," I whisper against his lips and I feel him slump.

"All of this is my fault," he says, and suddenly I'm the one holding him up. "If I'd just listened-" His voice chokes off as his grip on my arms tightens.

You're wrong. I need you.

I press my lips to his to stop him from going over what had already been done. He hesitates for only a moment before kissing me back. His mouth against mine is insistent-firm, but gentle. And then he's kissing the corner of my mouth, my nose, my eyes, my cheeks. He stroking my arms and pulling me to stand so he can pull me that much closer. I wrap my arms around him and bury my head in soft space where his neck meets his shoulder. He smells like cedar and I sigh, feeling my tension melt.

Please don't leave me.

I place small, open mouth kisses on his neck and he kisses the corner of my eye, my forehead, my hair, the smooth stretch of skin beneath my ear.

"I won't leave," he says, his voice rough and raw, like he's been screaming. "Because I'm selfish, and I love you." My heart stutters as I try to nuzzle closer to his skin. "And I'm so sorry for that."

September 1, 1998
First Day of School
Eighth Year

How did we get here? How did we fall apart?

I stand in front of the Hogwarts Express, excited and nervous and sad. All around me, regular students are hugging their parents, kissing cheeks, crying, and excitedly loading their trunks onto the train. And here I am, beginning my 8th year, scarred and afraid and alone. My parents are having their memories restored-a process the Healers at St. Mungo's said might take up to a year, because of how many memories were erased-and only one of oldest friends stands before me.

"I wish I was coming with you." Harry touches my arm lightly and I jump at the contact, but quickly smile. "But I just don't think I could go back there. Not yet."

"I wish you were coming, too. But of course I understand," I say before hugging him around his neck for the barest of moments. "I'm sure auror training will keep you plenty busy. And no exams!" I try to laugh lightly, but it falls flat. Out of habit, we both look to the empty spot beside us where Ron should be.

"He wanted to come see you off," Harry says, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding my eyes, and I know it's a lie. We broke up a month ago, and we hadn't spoken since. I wasn't sure I wanted to speak with him, but part of me still thought he should be here.

We were supposed to be together. All of us.

"I'm sure he's very busy." I smile, but I know it doesn't reach my eyes, and I see Harry wince. I didn't know what Ron had told him, but I hadn't filled him in on the details. I didn't want to relive it.

I open my mouth to convince him I'm OK when the last warning whistle blows.

"I'll write at least once a week," he says, and I lunge to give him another hug, making this one count.

"Me too." I smile as I see him trying not to look around. "And I'll keep an eye on Ginny."

He flushes and ducks his head, straightening his glasses as he nods. He hugs me one last time, and it feels like my ribs might crack, and I smile.

On the train, I hope to find an empty compartment. A lot of kids didn't come back this year, and while I realize why, I feel sad again. The war touched most of us. A lot of parents weren't sure the school was safe. One of my hopes was that, with all the attention the press gave me, my presence might show others that Hogwarts was safe.

I move toward the back, listening for voices before popping my head into any compartment. It's near the back that I find one that's quiet. I don't particularly want anyone asking where Harry, or worse, where Ron, was. I push the door open as the train hits a bump and my hair flies in my face. I right myself, pushing my manic curls behind one ear, and my heart jumps into my throat.

"I didn't realize-"

"I'm so sorry-"

We speak at the same time and stop at the same time. Draco Malfoy, in muggle jeans and a white button down, is standing, staring at me with wide, panic-stricken eyes. The last I saw him, was in the Great Hall, huddled with his parents, covered in blood and dirt, eyes dim.

We both stand, silent, as the train picks up its pace, and then I shake my head.

"You were here first. I'll go find another cabin." I move and he steps forward, nearly grabbing my arm, stopping just close enough for me to feel the heat of his fingers through my thin, long-sleeved shirt. Its enough to make me stop, though I recoil. For a moment, I think I see him wince.

"No. Please." He motions toward his seat where a book lays open. My fingers itch to flip the page, to see what he's reading. "I can find somewhere else."

"That's stupid." I hear the bite in my words, I'm reminded of Ron, and wish I could take it back, but I can't. His face begins to harden, which makes this all easier. "You were here first." I straighten up, feeling like a third year again, about to punch him in his arrogant face at the first sign of aggression.

"I'm trying to be a gentleman," he says, his jaw tight. I see his hands clench into fists at his sides. He takes a deep breath. "Granger," he growls my name, "please, just have a seat."

I'm not sure if it's the fact that he said please, or my natural curiosity that makes me want to stay. I look to the bench across from his, empty and safe, and I think of riding the train to Hogwarts for my last year alone.

The fire leaves my eyes and I sit. He closes the compartment door behind me, leaving it open a crack-giving me an escape that I instantly appreciate-and then he returns to his book.

I settle in, looking in my own bag for the book I brought for the trip, then look up. He's reading against and I can see the spine. Ender's Game by Orson Scott Card. An American Muggle writer. I scoff, and his grey eyes pop up to stare at me. He sees me eyeing the cover of his novel and his cheeks turn pink.

"Science fiction. I didn't think that was in your wheelhouse, Malfoy." I do my best to imitate his smirk, hoping for something on this train ride to feel familiar without my friends. Friend, I remind myself, pushing Ron out of my mind.

Fight with me.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Granger." His voice is growly again, and I uncross and recross my legs, suddenly feeling warm.

"I haven't read that one," I said, nodding to his book. Why am I still talking? "Is it any good?"

He nods before placing a bookmark to keep his place and offers the book to me. "One of my favorites. I've read it three times."

I take the paperback and am surprised at how warm it is from being in his hands. I read the back quickly and meet his eyes. "A little boy trained for battle. Child soldiers." I feel goosebumps on my arms.

"And he doesn't even know what he's fighting for. Or against." His eyes never leave mine, and suddenly I'm glad Ron and Harry aren't here. "And he's in Dragon army." He chuckles. "Like me. My name, I suppose." He clears his throat. Is he nervous?

I nod and offer Malfoy his book back, but don't lean back to my seat. I stay, leaning forward, elbows perched on my knees. The compartment suddenly feels much smaller.

"Does he ever find his way? This Ender person? This Dragon?" My voice is low and I watch his eyes widen and a smile twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Eventually."

I sit back with my own smile, uncrossing and re-crossing my legs to alleviate some of the strange heat. "Good.

September 1st, 1998
The Great Hall
The Sorting

I sit at the new table designated for eighth years and it just feels wrong.

How did I get here?

All the tables are smaller this year, a result of fewer students coming back. We eighth years would be taking the same classes as the seventh years-those of us who missed most, or all, of our seventh year-as well as some new classes, offered only to us. McGonnagall's speech is about inner-house unity, about how the eighth year class is an example of how we should all work together. I sit up taller, even though all I want is to to go to the Gryffindor table, to find Ginny, to make her be my friend again.

There a few of us that have returned from each house. From Gryffindor, myself, Parvati Patil, and Neville Longbottom. From Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Hannah Abbott, and Susan Bones, From Ravenclaw, Terry Boot and Padma Patil. And from Slytherin, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, and of course, Draco Malfoy.

I look over at the Gryffindor table where Ginny sits with the regular students, staunchly not meeting my gaze. She blames me for ending things with Ron. They all do, all except Harry.

I look away from her when the Sorting starts and feel a prickly feeling at the base of my neck. My eyes snap up. Across the table and a few seats down, Malfoy is staring at me, an unreadable look on his face.

For some reason, my cheeks heat, but I nod at him and am surprised when he nods back. It seems our little truce on the train is holding. I turn my attention back to the Sorting, and to the introduction of the Head Boy and Girl, just in time to hear that not only are Eighth Years at their own table, we're also in our own dormitory.

I won't be going back to the Gryffindor rooms.

Why did everything have to change?

After the feast, we are led to our new dorms by the Head Boy and Girl. If I'd stayed for my last year, I know I would have been Head Girl. I had the highest marks. And part of me was angry that I missed out on that, even if it was for a truly good cause. I'd lost so much.

"Doin' all right there, Granger?" His voice is next to me and is as smooth as it was growly earlier on the train. I'm proud I don't jump away, even if my heartbeat spikes.

"Perfect," I say, not looking at him, hoping my sarcasm comes through. "This is exactly how I imagined my last year at Hogwarts. Isolated from my house. Moving into a new home. My best friends far away." I cringe. I'd said friends again. Oh well.

"It's not so bad," Malfoy says, his voice low so that only I can hear. "New adventures. New friends. Sort of a time to get a fresh start." He laughs lightly, but it seems forced. "Besides, I heard McGonnagal was making our curfew later than the rest of the school. And giving us longer library hours to keep up with our studies."

I perk up at this, and look at him, a smile forming at the thought of library time away from the younger students, who were often only there to snog.

He laughs at my expression, in a way that doesn't make me feel like he's laughing at me. "All it took to get you to see things differently was the library?" He's smiling-not smirking, smiling-and I find myself smiling back.

"I really love the library," I whisper, as if it's a secret, and he laughs louder, earning strange looks from our classmates. I feel myself blush, but he ignores them.

"Oh, I know, Granger. We all know." He's still smiling as we walk.

"So, a fresh start," I say quietly, heart racing again. He turns to look at me from the corner of his eye.

"Could be." He shrugs.

"And new friends?" I ask, feeling my cheeks grow pink.

"And new adventures," he says, which I don't understand, but I nod.

"Can I ask-" I take a deep breath, and I notice we've both started walking slowly-much slower than the rest of the group. "Ask a question?"

He stops completely and looks at me, his white-blond hair falling over one eye.

"Why the change of heart?" he asks for me, his expression looking more open and human than I'd ever see before.

I nod, my own heart in my throat.

"I guess I just got tired of being the bad guy." He shrugs. He won't meet my eye.

I stick out my hand, and his head pops up. I came back to Hogwarts to make things in my life right. To find an ending that felt right. Giving someone else a chance to do the same, to find their right ending, was a step toward that.

"Hi," I say, a small smile on my face. "I'm Hermione Granger. I'd love it if we could be friends."

He smirks, but it's different than before. There's no malice in it, and I find that it suits him.

"Draco Malfoy," he says, taking my hand in his. His hand is wide, his fingers long and warm. "I think I'd like that."

He squeezes my hand once, and then laughs. "We should hurry before the lock us out."

Our group is at the end of the hall, a few eye are looking back, but it's clear they're waiting for us to get the password.

I laugh as he lets go of my hand and we job, side by side, to our new common room door.