Chapter 2

With the sorting finished and start-of-year announcements complete, Professor McGonagall flicked her wand and food of all kinds appeared on the long table in front of him. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini started scooping helpings onto their plates while Draco watched a bushy-haired Granger across the hall roll her eyes at her friends and turn to talk to the young Weaslette. A shiny new Head Girl badge glinted on her robes.

Fuck.

"What is it that you find so fascinating, Malfoy?" Nott teased between mouthfuls. "Has the Weasley witch got your panties in a bundle?"

"Your father would be so proud if you brought the little blood traitor home to dinner," Blaise scoffed.

Nott shrugged. "Say what you like. She's got a nice arse. I'd take a fistful of her hair any day."

Thinking it best to ignore the conversation altogether, Malfoy helped himself to mashed potatoes, turkey and cranberry sauce while Blaise and Nott discussed if they thought the carpet matched the curtains. Declining to answer, Malfoy pushed food around on the plate before scooping some up on his fork. It vaguely reminded him of congealed blood on a white marble floor. The cranberry sauce wobbled in a gelatinous blob on his fork, frozen in midair.

Slowly, with barely a clink of the silver, Malfoy set his fork on the plate. "You two disgust me," He sneered. "I can't stomach anything if I'm going to forced to listen to this pathetic drivel." Pushing up from the table, Malfoy stepped back over the bench seat. "If I wanted to be surrounded by morons while I eat, I'd sit with the Hufflepuffs."

Back straight, Malfoy turned and walked down the length of the tables, out of Great Hall in the direction of the Slytherin common room. Eyes straight ahead and hands shaking, Draco walked straight past classrooms and a storage closet then turned a quick left and stalked out of sight.

"Prude," muttered Blaise to his plate.

Theo grunted some kind of consent but said nothing more as he watched his friend slip around the corner. Not in the direction of the dungeons.

Ginny and Harry had started to make eyes at each other over dessert and Ron was still stuffing his face, avoiding Hermione's gaze. Deflated, Hermione stood.

Having realized their silent conversation had not been as secret as he would have liked, Harry looked sheepishly at his plate. "Heading back to the common room, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"I think I'll head to the library first. There's a topic I wanted to look into for my History of Magic paper," said Hermione, throwing her friend a smile. "I'll catch up with you guys later."

Mouth hanging open mid-chew, Ron's face blanched. "We have a History of Magic paper?! Since when?"

Walking out of the Great Hall was a relief as she headed towards the library. The awkward silence and lack of conversation in the middle of a crowded and chaotic Great Hall was torture compared to the peaceful silence of the library. Or even of this empty hallway.

Or nearly empty. Slowing her pace, Hermione saw a figure sitting hunched on the floor outside the library. Hair on her arms raised, Hermione's hand was in her robes, grabbing for her wand before she remembered she was in the relative safety of Hogwarts. Not running from Death Eaters. Another three steps revealed white hair under the hood that could only be Malfoy's. Death Eaters, indeed.

A ghost of a gasp escaped her lips as she quickly snapped her attention straight forward. Clenching her wand in one hand and the hem of her sleeve in the other, Hermione lengthened her stride. She was almost through the library doors when a cool voice drawled from the floor. "Going to walk right by me, Granger? Don't you know it's considered rude to ignore your fellow peers?"

Hermione stopped dead. There are not many things Malfoy could say that would make her stop. She was determined to pretend he didn't exist this year. But his words gave her pause. "What the hell are you talking about, Malfoy?" Still looking straight forward into the depths of the empty library, Hermione stood in the middle of the door frame. The last time she had seen him was at the battle of Hogwarts. And before that, she was lying on the marble floor of his manor being tortured and mutilated by his deranged aunt.

She felt Draco quietly rise from the floor. He lazily brushed himself off and pushed closer to her. "I just thought you'd at least acknowledge me," he whispered and took a step back. "Since we're supposed to be partners and all."

"I don't have time for stupid games, Malfoy," she spat. "What the hell are you talking about? Or maybe you just like to skulk outside libraries and whisper sweet nothings into unsuspecting ears as a hobby now?"

Hermione gave herself a half second to compose herself and keep her other hand from shaking before turning to face a boy that had graced her nightmares for the last several years.

Her contempt faltered a fraction as she took in the hollow cheeks and sunken eyes staring back at her. His signature silver white hair, which was always shiny and slicked back, was now dull and hung loosely in his face.

Draco looked down and Hermione's gaze lowered with his to see a badge resting in his pale, outstretched palm. Not just any badge. A Head Boy badge.

Hermione's stomach dropped to the floor. Any blood left in her face plummeted to her legs, willing her to run but her mind was sluggish. Frozen, Hermione stared at the badge in horror.

No.

"You stole that from Ernie Macmillan, didn't you?" Hermione demanded.

"What? Oh right." Malfoy took a step back. "As if there's anything that Ernie Macmillan has that I could possibly want! Why would I steal a Head Boy badge?" Malfoy demanded. "Why would I want to be Head Boy next to Golden Girl Granger."

Hermione had to admit, it did seem strange. But even more strange that Malfoy could actually be Head Boy. Still...

"You expect me to believe they chose a Death Eater as Head Boy, Malfoy?" she spat. "You've taken one too many bludgers to the head. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." Stealing her strength from the doorway, Hermione marched on into the library.

Determined to finish her History of Magic paper, Hermione stalked to a table toward the back of the library. She wanted no distractions and surely no one would wander this deep into the stacks. Throwing her bag down on the table, a muffled "shhh!" same from somewhere beyond the rows of books.

"Hmph." As if she was disturbing anyone in the library on the first day back to Hogwarts.

Leaving her bag at the table, Hermione made her way to the History section. A great resource, if a bit underused.

Slowly grazing her fingers along the worn leather bindings, Hermione closed her eyes and drew in a slow, deep breath. Then another.

Old parchment. Cracked leather. Musk. It melted her soul.

Heartbeat returning to normal, Hermione paused in front of a promising group of books.

Picking four to start, Hermione returned to her table and pulled the largest book forward. With the feather of her quill between her lips, she began to read.

It was no use. Well over an hour had gone by and Hermione had only gotten through one of her books. Finding nothing useful, she moved onto the next. She had reread the same page several times but couldn't retain any of it. The book was a collection of interviews of ghosts that had lived through the Goblin Wars.

All Hermione could think of was how much Draco Malfoy had looked like a ghost. And consequently her mind wandered to his pale bony fingers holding out that Head Boy badge.

Surely he couldn't be.

With a decisive "snap," Hermione shoved the book in to her bag. The other books she returned to the shelves. Gathering her things, Hermione marched out of the library and up to the seventh floor.

Professor McGonagall's office was an odd assortment of plants and magical artifacts. Some Hermione knew, others she could only begin to guess. The large Victrola from fourth year sat to the side of a large empty expanse of hardwood floor. A plush sette and pair of armchairs hovered on a red and gold rug near glass cabinets along a far wall. Who normally occupied the chairs, Hermione couldn't guess. It seemed odd to think of the Headmistress entertaining guests.

Corralling her attention back to the task at hand, a gray tabby cat sat astutely on the desk, watching Hermione walk forward.

"Excuse me Professor McGonagall," she began. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I ran across Draco Malfoy in the hallway earlier this evening and he claims that he is this year's Head Boy. Forgive me but I thought Ernie Macmillan was given the position? Since I didn't want to spread wild rumors, I thought it best to check with you. He had a badge and everything, though I don't know how he got it since prefect badges have anti-duplication charms on them."

Hermione waited while the tabby sat completely still. Then a twitch of the tail.

"Erm, I'm sorry if I interrupted you. I should have asked before I started. Should I come back at another time?" Hermione asked.

"Nonsense!" a voice called from the loft above the desk. "Now is a perfectly good time."

Professor McGonagall came to the iron railing and looked down at the young Miss Granger. "I have been expecting you. Though I thought it wouldn't be until at least tomorrow."

Hermione glanced back at the cat who was watching the headmistress descend the spiral staircase. "I'm sorry to disturb you Professor. I just wanted to tell you that Draco Malfoy has claimed to be Head Boy and he has a badge that looks very similar to mine."

"I heard you, my dear. And how can I help you this evening?" McGonagall asked, coming to stand squarely in front of the desk.

"Well I guess I don't understand. Why is Malfoy claiming to be my partner and why does he have a badge when prefect badges are meant to be impossible to duplicate?"

"Why indeed?" McGonagall replied. "Surely, Miss Granger, you already know the answer to your question."

"Hang on. Do you mean to tell me that Malfoy is Head Boy?" Hermione asked.

"Indeed, I think you may have just told yourself." McGonagall smiled.

Hermione huffed out a laugh. "Butt Malfoy couldn't possibly be Head Boy. He's a Death Eater! And his father is a Death Eater! His whole family fought alongside Voldemort."

"Surely not. I believe you remember Nymphadora Tonks? She was Draco Malfoy's cousin," McGonagall mused.

"Yes, but-"

"And I believe they were also related to Sirius Black through Narcissa."

Well sure, but-"

"And I believe that Narcissa played an important role in lying to Voldemort that Harry was dead when in fact he wasn't. Harry testified at her trial that if it were not for Narcissa, that Voldemort might have won."

"But she wasn't trying to-"

"And for Malfoy's part in this, I would remind you that he did nothing that any other child in his shoes might have done."

"THEY TORTURED ME!" Hermione burst out. "She tortured me, and he didn't do anything to stop it. He just watched! He just watched while she mutilated me with a cursed knife."

Professor McGonagall sat on the edge of her desk and studied the young woman in front of her.

"I know," McGonagall admitted with a sigh. "I know what she did to you. I think you were very brave. And I think you are a very different person than the girl that punched Malfoy in the face in her third year. -Yes, I knew about that, too," McGonagall said.

"Then, I'm sorry Professor, I still don't understand." Hermione said. "Why pair me up with the most hated boy in school?"

"Did you know that I have already talked to Malfoy this evening? An hour before you, actually," McGonagall said. "He offered to give his badge up. Insisted, really. He didn't seem to think he was the right choice, either."

Hermione was surprised. "I would have thought he'd have owled his mother or father to get you to switch me out for someone else."

"Indeed. Mr. Malfoy's request was uncharacteristic for what one would have expected from him two or three years ago." The Headmistress stood once more. "This war has changed everyone. You would be wise, Miss Granger, to remember that history is written by the victors. The other half of the story has a habit of being overlooked."

"I understand, Professor," Hermione replied, nodding once.

"I'm not sure that you do, Miss Granger. However. I expect you to try to cooperate with Mr. Malfoy. You are both adults and you will act as such," said the professor. "With any hope, we all might just learn a little something," McGonagall mused to herself.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione said, averting her gaze.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. You may return to your domitory," said the headmisstress, walking around the desk and taking a seat.

The grey cat that hadn't moved through the entirety of their conversation, continued to watch Hermione. Had it blinked at all while she had been talking to the professor? Hermione wasn't sure.

As if in answer to her silent question, the cat flicked the tip of it's tail as it slowly blinked and looked away. Deciding it was just as singular as any other cat, Hermione excused herself once more, turned and left the headmistress's office.

Descending the circular stairs, Hermione recalled some of the more peculiar points in their conversation. Firstly, that McGonagall had claimed that Draco offered to give up his Head Boy badge. Surely his family had wanted him to have it. And she knew from personal experience that Malfoy liked to use every chance he got to domineer over everyone he could. Fifth year in Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, for example. And he was already a terrible prefect before that.

Secondly, Hermione knew Malfoy had been excused from any and all crimes made during the war. Of course bribes and blackmail must have been involved. He had more than enough money to pay off the Ministry. What possible consequences might he have faced that would make his version of the war worse than hers? No. Malfoy got off easy. He didn't fight giant snakes, or snatchers or the threat of starvation. He didn't get tortured.

Hermione respected the headmistress but she had to disagree. Sometimes the grass is greener…

Lastly, Hermione wasn't sure what McGonagall meant by what might be learned. What would anyone learn from Malfoy and Hermione being Head Boy and Girl?

Author's Note: Wow. Chapter two down. Hope you like it so far. I find it very comical that I inserted a little bit of my dad into this chapter. He always says "'History' is just that. His-story. History is written by the victors." It's something that has stuck with me and reminds me to try to be open-minded because you can never really know all the facts. As an INTJ* the idea of not being able to know all the facts drives me a bit nuts, but I digress. (*Meyer's Briggs. Google it. If you find psychology and personality tests as fascinating as I do, take the test on 16 personalities dot com. It's free and pretty darn accurate.) AGAIN! I DIGRESS!

If you have thoughts, comments, advice, constructive criticism, ideas, or if you wanna share some love, be my guest! If you want to tell me how much I suck, I'd really rather you didn't.