Author's Note: Here's the second chapter. I'm churning them out pretty quickly because it's just inspiration. :) Soon I'll ram into a bad case of writer's block and then you can stone me.

So here's the chapter. I know it's going a little slow but let's be honest, there's no way that a budding friendship between Draco and Hermione, let alone a relationship, would happen so quickly. So I'm taking my time here, establishing a back story and all that. Hope you won't fault me for that. At least this chapter's much longer, almost twice the length of the previous one.

Read and review then! Cheers.


Chapter Two:

The Beginning of A New School Year

The moment he steps into the Great Hall with his books in his hand, he senses the level of chattering dip a little as students, upon spotting him, rehash old gossip and rumours overheard during the past school year and summer holidays. Ignoring them, he falls into step with Zabini and makes his way towards the Slytherin table, located between the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. Blaise saunters with his head held high but Draco, walking along beside the arrogant-looking tall boy, has his head titled slightly downwards, with his eyes trained on the smooth marble ground. He doesn't feel the need to look at anybody, especially since everybody seems to have taken much interest in him.

"Go back to your mummy, Malfoy!" Someone shouts from the Ravenclaw table as the two boys pass it and the Great Hall is silent. All eyes are on him, anticipating a vicious strike back at the smug Ravenclaw sixth-year, who has his arms folded across his chest.

Draco stops in his tracks, then slowly turns to the direction of the stout Ravenclaw. With his head still minimally dipped, he looks up and stares at the sixth-year, presenting an intimidating figure. Blaise, having halted with Draco, stiffens inconspicuously. He knows the golden-haired boy well enough to be aware of his temper. Especially now, when Malfoy has been through and seen too much over the year. He looks on as Draco continues staring daggers at the stocky sixth-year quietly, whose smirk begins to falter and eyes begin to shift rapidly. The silence continues and the tension mounts as every student in the Great Hall seemingly holds his or her breath, waiting anxiously for a hex or a jinx to be flying toward the loudmouthed Ravenclaw.

Without saying a word, Draco reduces the bulky sixth-year into a sweating mass of flesh and bones. Abruptly, he turns and walks on towards his House table. He seats himself down at the far end of the large table and even though they weren't near him to begin with, Slytherin students, both young and old, make no secret that they're steering clear of him.

Blaise, still standing in front of the Ravenclaw table, smirks at the red-faced, sputtering boy and cocks an eyebrow, causing a few Ravenclaw girls to sigh in contentment. Following Draco's footsteps, the noise level gradually returns to its boisterousness as he slides in beside the lone figure and picks up a piece of bacon from one of the common meal plates. Crunching on it, he looks around and notices all the Slytherins around them conscientiously avoiding looking at them. Instead, there're quick flickers and stolen glances directed at the two boys, one munching on a piece of bacon and the other, leisurely spreading butter on a piece of toast.

Nobody, not even the Slytherins, seem to want to have anything to do with them. Which is perfectly fine. Draco can't be bothered in the slightest and Blaise, being richer and better looking than most, holds himself in higher standing anyway.

"Did you eat anything last night?" Blaise inquires, referring to Draco's loss of appetite the night before.

"Didn't feel like it," was the short reply. Sighing audibly, Blaise picks up a bread roll, tears it open and spreads strawberry jam in between the folds.

"What?" Draco frowns irritably.

"To starve yourself to death is extremely passé, Malfoy. If you want to kill yourself, there are other, more tasteful ways to go about doing it," Blaise adds in his low baritone voice.

He looks up from his half eaten piece of toast and sees Zabini smirking good-naturedly. A light chuckle escapes his lips and he turns back to his breakfast. "You of all people should know that I am above such doltishness."

Zabini shrugs in return. The sound of vigorous flapping catches their attention as they look up and are greeted by hundreds of owls, varying in size and shape, flying through the windows and landing rather ungracefully unto jugs of pumpkin juice or pots of tea and coffee.

A large handsome eagle owl lands neatly in front of Draco, with a letter addressed to him in his mother's sophisticated script clipped in its beak. He accepts the letter, then feeds a bit of kipper to the owl. Eating it off his hand, the sizable owl then spreads its wings and departs, presumably to the Owlery for a rest before heading back to Malfoy Manor. Draco lifts the cream-coloured envelope up to his nose and breathes in the smell of the expensive paper, mingled with his mother's perfume. The scent makes him think of home and of his parents.

He turns it over and opens it, taking out a long piece of parchment folded into three parts, covered in his mother's polished handwriting.

To our dearest Draco,

We trust that you're doing all right. All's fine at home. Your father has insisted on tearing down the main library and the dining hall and rebuilding new ones, his attempt at doing away with the past. This will be a nice little project for me, to redecorate the new rooms. I've also suggested removing the dungeons as well, since we no longer have any need for them. Your father was quite flustered at my recommendation, but he has since accepted it.

Now as you already know, Harry Potter, along with Kingsley Shacklebolt, are in the midst of eradicating all remaining Death Eaters. They've asked for our assistance and after giving it some thought, we've agreed. If not to lend a helping hand, then it is to clear our conscience and family name. Don't you worry about anything; your father and I are adults and will be able to take care of ourselves. It will consist of nothing more than occasional trips overseas, that's all.

Your father would like you to know that despite all that has happened, he still expects top marks in your N.E.W.T.s. Now, you know me, I'll be happy as long as you are. I know that you weren't all that thrilled about having to return to Hogwarts and probably still are a little mad, but please do this for me. Education is important and besides, my wanting you to go back to Hogwarts is my way of hoping that you will forget all that has happened. I cannot expect you to revert to your younger self, but I can only hope.

Draco, perhaps it is time to let go and move on. Your father and I certainly have. It hasn't been the easiest of roads but we've been trying, and our efforts are being slowly acknowledged. We wish the same for you, that you will allow people to see the compassionate side of you. I know that it will be difficult, but do you not think that the recent events have done more than simply change the world? It has changed us, Draco, and I hope that this change will reach your heart as well.

Know that your father and I are extremely proud of you. And we hope that one day, you will be proud of us as well.

Love,
Mother

He stares at the letter, his heart a little heavier than it already was before. It's not as though his mother had written anything to upset him. It's just that at that point, he's never missed his parents as much before.

"We've got Advanced Potions now," Blaise reminds him as he tucks his own letter beneath the folds of his robe and prepares to get up.

Draco looks over at Blaise and gives a curt nod, sliding the letter back into the envelope and slotting it between the pages of his Potions text. "Let's go."

--

To say that Hermione is confused would be an understatement. After witnessing the hushed confrontation between Malfoy and the Ravenclaw sixth-year, her brain has simply been buzzing with unanswered questions. Malfoy was obviously provoked so she could excuse him if he did something rash. But to do nothing? It was completely out of character.

"What do you think that was about?" Ginny whispered over to her.

The brunette shrugged and gave a slight shake of her head. "I don't know, but Malfoy's been a little strange lately."

"You mean like yesterday?"

Hermione took a while to reply as she replayed the incident over in her head. "Yeah, like yesterday. He was perfectly civil yet … I don't know." She thought of his expressionless face and shuttered silver eyes. "It's like something in him has died."

"Have you heard what people are saying about him? That his parents are thinking of moving because of all the Death Eater threats," the Weasley girl asks as she gulps down half a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Oh Gin, you should know that I don't care about these rumours. It's all nonsense."

"Yeah, I guess. But stil-"

The entrance of owls through the windows interrupts Ginny. Hermione looks up, and spies a small Scops owl aiming straight at them. It doesn't seem to be flapping its wings, could it be – THUD! Pigwidgeon lands right on Ginny's half-filled goblet of pumpkin juice, causing it to topple and spill pumpkin juice all over the table. Hermione hurriedly siphons the growing puddle with her wand before it could reach her books as Ginny gently picks Pigwidgeon up and removes the two tightly-rolled scrolls of parchments tied to its left leg.

"Stupid Ron. He knows that Pig's so small and he still sends two letters with him," she grumbles as she carefully wakes the small owl up and feeds it some fish and water. "Here's yours," as she hands Hermione a rather thick roll of parchment, magically sealed.

The dark-haired girl turns the tightly furled parchment around and recognises Ron and Harry's untidy scrawls. 'To Hermione. We miss you!' Smiling, she straightens up the parchment and begins to read, used to their chicken scratch writing long ago.

Dear Hermione,

How's Hogwarts? Still the same as before? Haven't had the chance to visit yet because I've been quite busy with Kingsley, as you already know. The trips have been quite tiring but we're safe. Every lead we get and investigate, I'm followed by at least two Aurors, both of whom are nice enough but it's just not the same as running around with you and Ron.

We've just captured Rodolphus Lestrange so he's going on trial next week. When we'd found him, he tried to put up a fight but nothing bad happened. I think he's gone insane because of their loss and the fact that Bellatrix is dead as well. On the way to Azkaban, he kept muttering her name under his breath. I actually felt pretty sorry for him … to be reduced to such a state.

Progress has been considerably slower but it's still there, so everyone's happy. Kingsley's requested the help of the Malfoys to aid in our search and they've agreed, so that's definitely going to be a boost. Nobody seems to want to say it but I know everyone's still a little jumpy about them. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't either. But then Narcissa helped me, and I believe that they'll do anything for the safety of their family. Helping us will benefit them too, since I don't suppose that they're held in high regards anymore amongst the Death Eaters.

There have been rumours of a Death Eater gathering in Albania to appoint a new leader. If that's true, we'll be there to stop it. But if you ask me, I highly doubt it. At this point, most of the more competent ones have already been put to prison. But yeah, I can almost hear you telling me that there's no harm being alert anyway. (I know you too well!)

Right. I'm going to pass the parchment over to Ron now, he's been whinging about me taking too long with your letter. Am going to write Ginny's one now. All this writing is giving me a real ache in my hand, I'll tell you that. Haven't written so much in such a long time!

Missing you,
Harry

Hi Hermione,

How have you been? Hope you're doing all right. Stupid Harry took so long with the letter that I've only got a few minutes to write before sending this off with Pig.

Still can't believe that you've decided to go back to Hogwarts. What for? In my opinion, Kingsley offered you a good job. And you can still stay with me us any time you want. But okay okay, it's your decision. I guess I just miss you a lot. It's strange not seeing you after having spent so much time with you over the summer.

Harry's trying to read over my shoulder to get inspiration for his letter for Ginny. What a sick man.

Business has been good. George is really working hard, makes my hard work seem like nothing compared to his. I talked to Dad about it, and Dad thinks that George is just trying to forget about Fred. I'm a little worried but if this is the way George can move on, then so be it. I'll just continue being overworked and underpaid ha ha ha!

As you know, George and I have already bought a shop at Hogsmeade, so we're in the midst of setting it up, hiring employees, stuff like that. I used to think it was fun to own your own business but it's still really tough work. When's your next Hogsmeade visit? Write me the date so I'll know when to be there to meet you. I'd like to see you. And I can bring you around too, some new shops have opened in Hogsmeade and there's this bookstore that I know you'll love.

All right, I have to send your letter now. Harry's smiling over whatever he's writing to Ginny and it's making me sick. Thank Merlin we're not like that.

Write me soon!

Love always,
Ron

With a big grin on her face, she folds the parchment neatly into half and puts it in her school bag. She turns over to Ginny, who is giggling at Harry's letter to her. 'Thank Merlin we're not like that,' she recalls Ron's words as she looks at the younger girl. Students begin to leave the Hall for their first class, and Hermione is instantly reminded of her first lesson – Advanced Potions with Slughorn. She grabs her bag and stands up. "Ginny, don't be late for your class."

"Yeah yeah," she replies as she folds Harry's letter into her bag and gets off her seat. "So what did Ron write you?" She asks with a sly grin.

Hermione can almost feel herself starting to blush so she keeps her head down as the two girls walk out of the Great Hall. "Nothing much, just telling me about the business and George. Oh!" She whips her head up. "Did they tell you that they've already bought a space in Hogsmeade?"

"Really?" Ginny's eyes widen in excitement. "That's great! Now we'll be able to see all of them without going to much trouble."

"Yeah," Hermione replies. "Anyway, I've got to go to the dungeons for Potions. I'll see you later or something."

"Right. Bye!" Ginny waves a short goodbye before flying up the stairs, running off to her Transfiguration class. Hermione looks down at the path leading to the dungeons, students milling about going to their classes. She grabs the handle of her bag and shifts it on her shoulder. Her eyes sparkle with anticipation as she walks down to Slughorn's classroom. Her heart skips a beat as she walks past groups of students, most of them shouting out greetings to her. School has officially started, and she simply can't wait.

--

In the Potions dungeons, now brighter because of Slughorn's cheery influence, sits just a few seventh years. All the students who've returned to Hogwarts have chosen to retake their previous year, having missed the exams because of the final war, so only the first year of each House has twice the normal number of students, graciously accommodated by enlarged classrooms and first year dorms.

Draco reclines on his chair, leaning against the table behind him, not caring if he's going to be blocking whoever chooses to sit there. He highly doubts anyone would choose to sit near him though. With the exception of Zabini, the rest of his classmates have chosen seats at the adjacent set of tables.

He takes a quick look around. There's that Hufflepuff MacMillan, whom he never liked. Then there're some smatterings of Ravenclaws – Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Padma Patil, Lisa Turpin and Anthony Goldstein. His lips curled into a little sneer. Too many Ravenclaws in a class makes for utterly dull lessons.

"Look who's here," Blaise directs Draco's attention towards the door in a low murmur. "It's Granger."

Draco turns and gazes at the lone Gryffindor, who'd just walked into class. He watches as her eyes, the colour of chestnut, twinkle as they roam the dungeon. She walks over to Macmillan and settles beside him, placing her heavy bag unto the table. Her hair, tied smartly into a plait, falls down her back, curling gently at the ends. He observes her as she takes the thick Advanced Potions text out of her bag and places it in front of her. Her deft fingers assemble her Potions kit, cautiously avoiding careless spillage. He remembers how she, along with Potter and Weasley, saved him and Goyle from the fiery blaze Crabbe had so foolishly started. He remembers waking up to screams and giant spiders and running away from it all. He remembers passing a tapestry and seeing her crying and forcefully wiping her tears away with her singed sleeve, trying to hold the raging Weasley boy back. He remembers the sinking feeling enveloping him as he watches them, as though a weight has been placed on his heart, intent on pulling it down. It's guilt ... and remorse …

"Something that interests you, Malfoy?" Blaise cuts in on his thoughts with a well-placed smirk.

Within a split-second, Draco blinks away the memories and turns to face the front, where Slughorn has just bustled in. "Nothing, Zabini," he replies shortly. "Nothing at all."

"So!" Slughorn claps his hands to rouse the attention of the small class. "Welcome back! I'm very glad to see some familiar faces." With that, he smiles at the single Gryffindor, who returns it pleasantly. "There're just a few of us but that's good, it'll give us more time to work on our potions. This first quarter of the school year, we will be covering potions dealing with the human's emotions. We will go over some that you will no doubt recognise, like the Elixir to Induce Euphoria and the Draught of Peace. And we'll learn some new ones, like various love potions, along with Amortentia, different hate potions and more …"

--

Hermione is enjoying every single second of the class. Granted, Ernie is still as pompous as ever, always offering to carry out the tasks for her instead of just letting her do her work, but he's still a good man. Today's Potions lesson is a rehash of the Draught of Peace, which they'd first learnt about in their fifth year. She adds some hellebore into her cauldron and proceeds to stir it, all the while trying to ignore Ernie's fanfaronade as politely as possible.

"So how's Ron and you?" The question jerks Hermione back to attention as she hears his name being mentioned.

"Uh, good good. We're fine," she replies.

"And Harry and Ginny?" He shoots another question at her with little time for her to process it carefully.

"Good too."

He looks at her for a moment, and then turns back to his cauldron. "I always thought Ginny was a fine looker, but I'm happy that Harry's got her now." A flash of irritancy causes the brown-eyed brunette to frown a little. He talks about Ginny like she's some sort of … property!

"Really?" She absent-mindedly asks after he points at one of the many scars on his right arm, souvenirs from a battle fought not too long ago. "That's amazing."

"You really think so? That's what everybody says, but I don't feel that I should believe them," Ernie fails to notice her lack of attention and ploughs on about how he does not care in the slightest about what anybody thinks of him.

Hermione tries her best to hide her smile as she stirs the contents in her cauldron a few more times. She looks away, not wanting Ernie to catch her grinning at his various overstatements and exaggerations and sees Slughorn fawning over Michael Corner's potion. As she's about to turn her head to the front, she notices a pair of stormy grey eyes staring straight into hers. Malfoy. He's evidently done with his potion, having already packed up his potion-making kit and books into a neat stack next to a small vial of his completed potion. His table is pristine, as is his appearance. The only thing that looks a mess is his pair of eyes, which are boring holes into hers. She swallows nervously and attempts a small smile, recalling his good deed yesterday evening.

To her surprise, he smiles back. It's a small one, tinged with sadness and loss and pain. And as quickly as the smile came, it was wiped off his face as Blaise Zabini turns to him. His eyes leave hers and flicker over to his friend, and she notices that once again, they revert to the normal cool silver grey. She can barely hear their short exchange, but continues to watch them, to watch the one with the carefully styled golden hair.

"Miss Granger! And what do you have for me, my dear?" Slughorn appears in front of her and peers into her cauldron. "Excellent, excellent work!" He beams at her. "I see the year off has done nothing to deter you from topping the class once again. Ten points for Gryffindor!"

Hermione smiles her thanks, then proceeds to some of her potion into a vial for submission before packing up her things. A wave of her wand, a muttered "Evanesco" and her cauldron is clean.

Slughorn makes his way to the front of the dungeon, and calls for everyone to submit their vials. She walks up to his table alone, her vial clutched in her hand. As she places the vial, labelled neatly with her name and year, unto Slughorn's table, she hears a quiet voice behind her, sending shivers up her spine. "Good work, Granger." She whips her head around and finds herself, once again, gazing into the eyes of an amused Draco Malfoy. The expression on her face must've displayed her puzzlement clearly as a ghost of a smile passes his lips. From the corner of her eye, she spies his arm reaching over her and for a moment, her heart stops.

"Relax. I'm just submitting my potion," he replies and his smirk grows. She has never actually been this close to him before, and to see his face stripped of the façade which has carried him through their younger years was … disconcerting.

"Come now, everybody. Let's go. Wouldn't want to be late for your next class on your first day!" Slughorn's booming voice startles her and she jumps. In a split-second, he's striding back to his table, where Blaise Zabini is waiting for him with a curious expression on his rather snobbish face. She's left standing alone in front of the Potions Professor's table, watching as his cloak billows behind him.

"Miss Granger?" She looks up and sees Slughorn curiously looking her. "Time for your next class, I think."

"Yes! I'm so sorry, Professor," she hurries over to her desk, grabs her things and briskly walks out of the dungeon. Her heart is still thudding hard; she can almost hear the pounding. As she steps out and away from the dungeon, the sight of Malfoy and Zabini strolling slowly, deep in conversation, greets her. She pauses in her speedy footsteps and looks at their backs for a moment, wondering.

--

The thing about Draco Malfoy is that he is extremely observant and sensitive to his surroundings. That's the real reason behind his successful verbal taunts of the past. He knows exactly where to hit and exactly how badly it will hurt. That also means that he knows when people are paying attention or not, when people are serious or not, when people are looking or not. So the moment Hermione Granger had spotted him; he could sense it, even though his back was to her. He stops walking abruptly, and slowly turns around to face her. Even from a distance, he can tell that she is blushing madly. Even her ears are tinged a soft red.

Finally noticing that his friend isn't walking beside him, Blaise turns around and sees Draco and Granger staring at each other. Again. He steadily makes his way to Draco and notices Granger's eyes flicker towards him, then back to Draco. A small frown graces his proud features, and he gives his friend a small nudge. "Draco."

It seems to jerk his friend out of a daydream. Draco turns to Blaise and gives him a curt nod, before moving his head back to face Granger. "You ought to be in your next class now," Draco mutters to her in a low voice, and Blaise is struck by the tenderness in his tone. "Don't be late."

With that, he suddenly turns on his heel fluidly and continues walking back to the Entrance Hall. Slightly perturbed, Blaise looks over to Granger and discerns a slight air of embarrassment and confusion about her. He looks at her carefully, his eyes travelling up from her shoes to the very tip of her head. A terse nod towards her direction and he's off, ambling languidly as he manages to catch up with his friend.

And once again, Hermione Granger is left standing alone, bewildered and perplexed by the strange events of the first day of school. And it's only the end of the first class.