Hermione nervously paced the Hogwart's Express Train's unsteady corridor. She had kissed her parents goodbye and Apparated to the platform after triple checking that she had everything that she needed, but something still felt strange. She was full of energy, more so than she had been since the Great Wizarding War has started.

She walked on her tiptoes, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Something was in the air. Not liking her uncharacteristic feeling of flightiness, she did a quick breathing exercise and settled into an empty carriage, pinning her Head Girl badge to her uniform.

Taking out her brush and mirror, she combed through her hair again, using her wand to mist it with water so it would be more manageable. During her time away after the war, she had spent more time with her mother, who was always quite fond of self-pampering, and she had learnt some beauty tricks after many tricks to the salon. Parting it down the centre and taking out a bottle of charmed gel, she rubbed it through her hair, watching the curls settle and remain defined, the frizz finally gone. If only she had been as interested in beauty and cosmetic care as she had been in books when she was younger. Smiling to herself, she put away everything and settled in with a quill and some paper, deciding to messily scrawl a letter to her parents.

Dear Mum and Dad,

I'm writing this letter on the Hogwarts Express. I doubt I'll have time later, with Head Girl duties and whatnot. I already miss you.

I'm excited to go back to school, and without Harry or Ron here, it feels like first year again. I can't wait to learn more, I really missed the classes last year. Even after all the horrible things happening last year, there have been incredible advancements in magical knowledge, and the Ministry has kept it under lock and key until this year. I've heard rumours, of course, but there really is nothing like the real thing.

I've heard that they're changing the way they teach as well. More focus on the students. Just as well. I can't imagine being 11 again after everything that happened and heading to the school, which was just repaired from it being a battle field.

Thank you for agreeing with me wanting to go back to Hogwarts. My education is incredibly important to me and I'm so relieved you both were so understanding. I'll be writing back with photos attached as soon as possible!

Love always,

Hermione Granger

Tucking the letter into her robes, Hermione breathed deeply, fighting back tears. She wasn't sure if the tears were out of sympathy for the younger students, love for her parents, or nerves about the upcoming school year. There was something electric about the air, but she had felt it ever since she made the decision to return to Hogwarts. She had never been one to entertain unfounded whims, but her mind shot back to her mother's uncertainty. Some part of her felt strange, as though this year was going to shape the rest of her life.

Amused at the thought, she rolled her eyes. If any year were to change her life, it would have been last year. She was a witch and a highly skilled one at that. She had been a crucial part of Harry's crusade to take down Voldemort, and she had destroyed Horcruxes with only a tooth in her hands. This year would be nothing.

Her spine didn't stop tingling. The hair on the back of her neck rose and she felt an inexplicable urge to get up and get out of her compartment. Something was drawing her somewhere else on the train.

"This is ridiculous." Hermione hissed to herself.

Predictably, talking to herself didn't make her feel better. Clicking her newly manicured nails together, she breathed in and out, trying to calm herself, before opening her luggage and taking a quill and paper out again. She needed to distract herself and there wasn't much of a better way to do it than being productive.

—

Malfoy,

I've heard from my mother from your mother that you and your father are well. I don't know why I bother to write, when I know you won't be reading this, self-loathing git that you are. Probably cut yourself off from the outside world completely. I'm absolutely crushed, Malfoy. Incredibly classless of you.

Either way, your mother comes around occasionally and let's me know how you're doing. Last week, she said you would be returning to Hogwarts for your final year. I guess I'll find out when I get there, but you can't continue ignoring me at the same school. Surprised? Someone's got to show up and make sure you don't end up Avada Kedavra-ing the whole school.

If you haven't heard from Pansy, it's because the entire Parkinson Family has relocated to one of their older properties. They've essentially gone underground, and no one knows where. All the better for her. I doubt she will be able to live down the sacrificing-Potter ordeal anytime soon.

I heard they're making you Head Boy. Seems like your father still has some pull at the school. Who would have thought? You better tell me your password as soon as you set it, otherwise it will be me ignoring you. Think of the parties we'll throw, eh? On second thought, McGonagall's probably got you on a leash by your bollocks. Ah, well. We only live until around 150. She's got to retire soon, that ancient bat.

Cordially,

Blaise Zabini

P.S. if you stand me up at the platform again this year, I'm going to set you on fire.

Draco rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Blaise and his dramatics were a welcome escape from his dark thoughts. Every year, they met at the third carriage, which soon became the designated seating area of the Slytherin Elite.

Last year, he had failed to show as he had wanted some solitary time to reflect on the ideal course of action in regards to his orders to assassinate Albus Dumbledore that year. Of course, Blaise took personal offence.

Just as Draco smirked at the idea of standing his friend up again, he heard the tell-tale footsteps marching down the hall, quickly accompanied with a harshly barked alohorama.

"Didn't I tell you last year, and in the letter I sent, that you weren't supposed to stand me up this year—" Blaise ranted, locking the door and turning to scold his childhood friend. "What in Merlin's name happened to you?"

Draco's smile leeched out of his face when he realized he was going to have to decide if he would tell his closest friend, and up until now, trusted confidant, about his condition.

"Shut up." Draco barked, reaching over and slamming the door shut behind him, locking it. "Put some wards up, silencing spell as well. They've got my wand on a trace. If I use any magic outside of Hogwarts, it's my neck."

"Wow, they're more strict that I thought they would be." Blaise whistled as he set the wards, tucking his wand away when he was done. "When I heard your father was on house arrest, I thought you guys were doing pretty well."

"Of course they're strict," Draco all but growled. "They've always hated my family. Every single person my father's threatened, every single person he's ever blocked from getting what they want— not to mention the amount of people who hate Death Eaters in general, they're just waiting for a reason to send us all to the Dementors."

"So your solution is to drink… what is it, hormone and glamour potions?" Blaise prodded at his friend's arm. "Develop an addiction to working out?"

"No." Draco hissed, smacking his hand away. "I need you to take a Vow."

"A vow?" Blaise repeated as he studied his childhood friend, his palms tingling with nerves. What was so secretive that he had to take a vow?

Draco looked as unhinged as he had ever looked, a sickly gleam to his eyes and skin, his body tense and fists clenched. Blaise could feel the magic pouring from him. He was used to Draco and his moods, but there was something dark about him this time. In fact, he looked almost as stressed as he had when Voldemort was living in his house. Surely there was no cause for such anxious energy. After all, the worst is over.

Looking over Draco's improved height and barely contained rage. Blaise didn't think it was wise to voice his opinion.

Draco lifted his heavy eyelids and locked eyes with his friend, lips curled in an animalistic snarl.

The infamous Black temper and their tendency to go insane immediately shot through Blaise's mind. This was the first time he had seen him make any expression with his face that involved moving his mouth any further beyond a sneer or a smirk. He didn't want to test him. After all, he had been closed off from the rest of the world besides Ministry visits for months, and there was no telling what was going through his mind. Like all Malfoy's, Draco was as unreadable as Ancient Gaelic. The only thing Blaise could be fully confident on was the violent aura of stress rolling off his skin.

"An Unbreakable Vow, Blaise."