Disclaimer: I do not own anything. I only own the plot.
A/N: I really hope nobody hates me because my chapters are so short, but I promise, I'll be updating very frequently!
"Bye, mummy!" Hermione said, kissing her mother on the cheek.
"Goodbye, dear," her mother said softly, turning away too hide her glistening eyes.
"Muuum! Don't cry now! You're going to get me all emotional," she said, her smile faltering.
"Right, honey," her father chuckled, "Don't be a worry wart. You should be proud our little Hermit Crab. It's her last year at that school. And she's, what was it again, honey? Oh yes, Head Girl. She's all grown up now. She can take care of herself and she'll be home before you know it."
"That's right, mum," Hermione said, letting out a small sigh of relief as her mother's face brightened, "Plus, I'll be home for Easter holidays. I did promise you, remember?"
"You'd better be! I almost had a heart attack when you said you weren't coming home last time!"
"Mum, I already explained to you the situation. You know I had to help my friends in the war. I didn't have much of a choice. And I still don't, really."
"Oh yes, this is settling my heart quite a bit now," her mother choked, sarcastically, "And why can't you come for the winter holidays?"
"I'll be studying way too hard, mum. My NEWTS are coming up. I can't afford to…"
"I know, honey. I'm just worried about you. And I'll miss you loads."
"And I'm always thinking about you and dad, trust me. Look, mum…oh wait," Hermione cut off, "There's Harry and Ron. I've got to go. We've got to get a good compartment before…"
"Hermione!" Harry yelled over the roar of the train's starting engines, "Don't rush! We'll find a compartment."
"Thanks!" Hermione yelled back, not fully trusting Harry and especially Ron in finding a compartment. They always were too busy chatting up a storm between them and never fully concentrated on the task at hand. That's where Hermione always came in. To keep those two in check.
"Okay, well that gives me a few more seconds with you both tops," Hermione giggled.
"Bye, Hermit," grinned her father, kissing her on the forehead.
"Dad! I've told you for years now not to call me that in public," she muttered sheepishly, her eyes scanning the student crowd, "But goodbye. I'll miss you terribly."
Eyes prickling, she turned to her mum and hugged her with all her might.
"Bye, dear, I love you," her mother sobbed, "One last thought; you've packed everything?"
"Yes, mum," Hermione replied, exasperated.
"You sure," her mother fussed, "Even that electrically heated blanket I bought for you?"
"Mum, I'm a witch. I have a wand. I can make things catch fire if I so pleased."
"Well, I just thought in case that Voldy-Man, whoever he is, happened to take your powers away somehow, or whatever else he could do…"
Hermione laughed at her mother's innocence of the wizarding world. "Mum, if he took away my wand, the last thing I'd worry about is if I'm warm enough or if I'd catch a cold."
"I know…"
"But I packed it anyway," Hermione said, watching her mother's expression lighten once again.
Suddenly, the train started to slowly move behind her. Her dad quickly helped her push her remaining baggage through the open door. She jumped on just in time before the train was gaining a faster speed.
She watched her parents get smaller and smaller on the platform. Her dad stood there, hands in his jeans' pockets (which, by the way, attracted quite a stare from some of the wizarding families around), eyes full of pride, and a wide smile upon his face. Her mother, on the other hand, was jumping up and down, flailing her hands in the air so her daughter would be able to still notice her for a further distance. Soon, the train turned a bend, and the platform was out of sight.
She wiped a tear that hand somehow made its way down to her chin with the back of her hand. Although she was going to miss her parents terribly, she knew Hogwarts was going to be great this year. It was, after all, her final year, and although the NEWTS were impending on the 7th years, it was still going to be amazing. She smiled to herself and turned around.
WHAP
Hermione blinked the stars out of her eyes and kneading her sore temple.
"Oh, did I hurt you, mudblood?" an icy voice drawled in the passageway, "But it wasn't really my fault, you see. My broomstick just doesn't like you, I guess."
"Malfoy," she spat, still massaging the side of her head. There was a bump forming; she could feel it. "Don't you have anything better to do? Besides slamming your broomstick into other people?"
"Well well," Draco sneered, "Look whose mind is just as dirty as her blood. I would have never guessed. And for your information, I would never slam my…broomstick into a mud—"
"Shut it, you wanker," Hermione snapped, not letting the embarrassment show on her face. "You know precisely what I meant. Now get out of my way while I look for my friends."
"Potty and Weasel? You must prefer them slamming their broomsticks into—"
"MOVE!" Hermione yelled, doing her best not to curse him. It wouldn't put a good start to her Head Girl duties after all.
"Hm, well see, now I'm weighing my options," Draco said, in mock speculation, "There's an open door behind you and if I push you, nobody would know, and I would never have to suffer from the annoyance you cause me for another day."
Hermione suddenly became very aware that she was standing in front of Draco Malfoy, a Death Eater's son, while her back was facing towards an open entrance to a moving train.
"However," he continued, "that would mean I'd have to touch you and get your filth all over my hands. Maybe I should just push you with my broomstick—"
Hermione made a hasty decision and quickly pushed passed him, grabbing her trunks on the way. She felt a hand lock around her upper arm in a painful grip.
"Malfoy, grow up," she said turning around and staring him straight in his icy eyes, more confident than she actually was, "You wouldn't have had the balls to do it anyway."
"I had not intended to, mudblood," his voice almost above a whisper, "I would just hate to see you die such a…quick death."
Her eyes narrowed. She yanked her arm out of his grip. "Leave me alone, you scumbag."
"Gladly," he muttered, staring at his hand, "I've got to go douse this hand in boiling hot water. Hopefully it gets rid of the filth. Maybe I should just cut it off…"
"If that's the case, I'd be more than happy to help," Hermione whispered silently, walking off to find Harry and Ron.
A/N: PLEASE review, lovelys!