One year and four months before

Summer was just a fleeting memory, a slip of paper just barely out of reach, a bird soaring out of sight. In its stead was the looming vision of Hogwarts, a vision of another school year, more drama, spells, and quidditch games. For the 7th years, their last year would be the year to remember, the last year for school romances and late-night rendezvous. For the 6th years, this would be the year they finally got to have some authority; for the 5th, 4th, and 3rd years, these were the comfortable years, the years where graduating seemed so far away. For the 2nd years, the year of getting comfortable with Hogwarts, and for the first years, the year for making friends and finding niches.

Hermione felt that her seventh year should be a year of great change. Something life-turning should happen her seventh year, she mused. Something so memorable it would be a story that would be told in Hogwarts for years to come. But so far, nothing was different. She still hated Draco Malfoy. She was still best friends with Harry and Ron. She and Ginny still shared their secrets. She still read books like her life depended on it, and the library was still her place to go.

Yes, she needed change, but no, she didn't really feel like changing anything right now. She stared down at the Griffindor table, her hand running over the smooth wood, caressing its smooth edges, its dips and nicks, its cracks and swirls. No, she definitely didn't want to do anything life-threatening. But maybe... she thought, her pointer finger idly making shapes on the wood, i could have a romantic relationship with someone that truly loves me. Like a Disney Princess kind of thing...

"-Hermione Granger!" Dumbledore called out, his eyes shining with pride.

Hermione raised her head, slightly confused at the onslaught of noise and cheering that came with the announcement of her name.

What in the...

"Hermione! You did it! You made Head Girl!"

It seemed as if the whole Gryffindor table was standing up, cheering her on. Tentatively, almost shyly, Hermione stood up and walked to the front to stand next to Dumbledore.

"...and the Head Boy is..."

Hermione crossed her fingers. Harry Potter. Or...Ron. Oh, Terry would be good too. Just please please don't let it be a-

"Draco Malfoy!"

-Slytherin. Oh, bugger it all.

At this, the Slytherin table promptly went up in a roar, practically carrying Draco to where Dumbledore was standing. But in the midst of all this chaos, one thing was echoing through every seventh years' head.

How was Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy going to cooperate long enough to do anything?

---

"The password, Malfoy, is NOT going to be mudblood. For the last time, it's going to be something else."

"Like what, Granger? Library?"

Hermione glanced at the portrait guarding the entrance. It was a rather sweet picture of two children having a picnic. In the background was a rather large tree with rather green leaves and rather red apples ornamenting its branches. It was quite serene, quite NOT like the conversation that her and Draco were having.

"How in the world is that insulting? Fine then, we'll have the password be... daisy."

"DAISY?" Draco bellowed, "Granger, how in the world is that manly?"

The two children stopped eating sandwiches and came to the edge of the portrait, their eyes shining with amusement. She saw the girl poke the other and whisper something in his ear. They broke out into childish giggles.

"It's NOT, Malfoy. Nor is it Gryffindor-like or Slytherin-like. Nor is it degrading. It's completely neutral."

"Degrading? It's degrading to my manliness, that's what it is. And do you know what else it is? It's feminine, that's right. As Head Boy, I demand that we change the password. Daisy." He spat, saying the word as if he were talking about shoe-shopping with Parkinson.

The portrait swung open and Hermione gave Draco a smirk that looked alarmingly Slytherin. "Feminine? Then, Malfoy, it matches you perfectly."

She smiled at the two portrait children, stepped around Draco's open-mouthed expression, and sauntered inside to the common room.

"Well, Granger," he sneered, his lips curling up, "at least I'm not a stupid, dirty-"

"-mudblood?" Hermione finished calmly, turning around to face him. "Really, Malfoy, can your feeble mind think of anything other than that one, repetitive insult? You've been using it for the past... what, seven years?"

Before he could think of a response, she was gone, and he was left with the reverberating sound of her door slamming shut.

---

Hermione slammed her door shut; put up a silencing spell. There was a second of silence. Then, pandemonium.

How DARE he call her a mudblood? -she angrily took out a chocolate bar-

How dare dare dare DARE he call her such a derogative, nasty, subordinating, DIRTY name? -seething as she took a bite of the chocolate-

What did he know about her? -the wrapper was thrown across the bathroom-

What- she kicked a stand over- did ANY of them know about her?

---

Draco sat on the edge of his bed. His hand, calloused from years of quidditch, idly smoothed over the surface of the green coverlet as if he was stroking the head of a much-loved animal.

What was with her? And what was with that voice?

"-mudblood? Really, Malfoy, can your feeble mind think of anything other than that one, repetitive insult?"

Cool, clipped. Like ice on ice. Like his mother right before she starts to yell. The calm before the storm. It was unnerving to get a different response. He had been expecting the usual glare and the running off with tears running down her face with her friends in hot pursuit. Why try a different tactic now?

But whatever. Malfoys, he thought to himself as he put his hands in his pockets and stalked out the door, don't concern themselves with lowly mudbloods. And i definitely do NOT have a feeble mind.

---

First Day of Class

Her desk, Hermione realized, was old. Perhaps, even centuries old. The wood was faded and worn from countless generations of students' hands and notebooks resting on its surface. She smoothed her hands around the edge and traced around a heart that had been carved into the wood. Who had been in love when they did this? With whom? She noticed a stubborn ink stain and smiled. Even those impossible ink spots, she thought, had a history.

She shifted her gaze to the window, idly tracing the imperfections along the edge of the desk with her finger. The view was wondrous, she thought. Definitely something one would see from Cinderella's castle. The sun reflected off of the snowy trees, the cascading flakes as they fell to the ground.Ethereal. Like so many crystals just falling from the sky.

She shifted her gaze back to Professor Snape.

"The exercise," Professor Snape was explaining, "is to look into the eyes of the person next to you for a minute--"

"Oooo Drakieee." Pansy squealed, unaware of Snape's disapproving glare, "You lucky, you get to look into my gorgeous eyes for a whole minute!"

"Parkinson." Low, threatening, like a rumble that builds in a bear just prior to attack. Pansy didn't get the hint, but Snape did. Quickly, he looked around the room. It was rare that Draco would be provoked to the point where he would hit a girl, but Pansy always seemed to know which buttons to push. Who, Snape thought, would Miss Parkinson hate sitting next to the most? His gaze alighted on a head with glaring red hair. Snape smiled.

"Draco," the godfather spoke, "please switch seats with Mr.Weasley."

Only after he had said the words did he notice who Ron had been sitting next to. A certain puff-head know-it all. Draco's nemesis, arch rival. And, unfortunately, his dorm-mate and co-head of the school.

Snape pretended not to notice the glares from the four students and started to re-explained the exercise.

"The exercise is to look into the eyes of the person next to you for a minute--"

A gag from Parkinson, a blush from Weasley, a sharp glare from Granger, and an unreadable gaze from Draco that promised trouble.

Snape cleared his throat. "Anyways, after a minute, tell each other what you saw. Some say that eyes--"

Books thudding on the ground. Draco's smirk.

"eyes are the window to the soul." The professor finished, sending a terrifying glance at Draco. And with a subtle, almost imperceptible movement, Snape magicked the books back onto Draco's desk. "Any questions?"

Hermione's hand. She spoke without being called on.

"Professor, i don't think i can bear looking into such an evil soul."

"Shut it Granger. I don't think i can look into the eyes of such a dirty mudblood, let alone a soul."

The room fell silent. Draco smirked, a small, languid sneer playing at the side of his lips.

Snape cut in. "Start the exercise NOW."

Hermione gazed into Malfoy's eyes, and was surprised by what she saw.
Her whole life, she had thought that he was a horrible, nasty Voldemort-lover; someone who had no problem torturing innocent people just because they were mudbloods.

The eyes, Hermione realized, were truly the windows to the soul.

At first glance, nothing. Just a deep hatred for this thing that had called her a mudblood half a minute ago. But dig a little deeper, and she was given entrance to a whole world of emotion. Sadness, pride, a stubbornness reflected in his face. Then, the smallest bit of tenderness.

He was not who she thought he was.
This was a revelation, and Hermione was determined to not let it go.

She saw his eyes start to wander from her face, and saw a brief moment of childish wonder cross his face when he looked out the window.

This Slytherin, Hermione realized, had a soul.
This nasty, name-calling piece of poop actually had a soul.
And not a heavily corrupted one that looked like the lungs of someone who smoked for fourty years, but a soul that could still be captured by the innocence and magnificence of something as small as snow.
And he was hiding it behind his perpetual smirk.

Ding.

Tell each other what you saw.

She looked into his eyes.

"I saw..."

-sadness. wonder. pride. a soul worth saving-

"...grey eyes."

lame, Hermione. laaame.

She couldn't bring herself to say it, couldn't bring herself to admit that he was not a heartless monster.

Not only that, she mused in an effort to justify her actions, how would he have reacted? And how did she know what she saw was true? She shook her head. It was absurd to assume that much from a minute of intense eye-staring.

She turned to look out the window once again, finding solace in the gently falling snowflakes. They were so predictable. So unique, but so predictable. Alone, delicate. Together, strong.

Like the bonds that held people together. Isolate one person and you get a weakling, a zebra separated from its herd, or a baby without a mother. But bring people together, and countries are civilized, buildings are built, innovations are made. Was she, in lying like this, isolating Malfoy? Was she making him a more susceptible to go to the Dark Lord? Would she be that fatal catalyst that helps him make his decision in life? Another soul, lost to the delusions of a devil wizard?

"Miss Granger." A voice interrupted her thoughts, and she looked up, irritated.

"Class is over. Please proceed to your next class."

---

"Malfoy!" Hermione ran to catch up to him, the solitary figure standing in the snow. "I told you what I saw in your eyes. I want to know what you saw in mine."

He smirked, casually brushing snow off his robe.

"Really, Granger. Do you really want to know what I saw?" He leaned against a nearby wall and crossed his arms over his chest, now seemingly oblivious to the falling snowflakes. "What do you think i saw?"

He went on without waiting for an answer, his eyes unreadable, his pale hands now hidden in the pockets of his large overcoat.

"I saw a mudblood." He started in his customary drawl, his wandering gaze coming to rest on her face as he continued, "A mudblood that thinks she's better than what she really is. Someone who doesn't deserve to be in the wizarding world." He straightened up and readjusted his scarf.

Hermione gasped, taking a step backwards. Screw revelation, and all that crap about that nasty ferret having a soul. What a heartless monster.

"At least," he sneered, bringing his face down to hers, "I didn't say i saw brown eyes."

Hermione said nothing as she tried to regain control of her feelings-- and her voice, so she could justify her actions. Ten seconds later, however, she was still gaping at his retreating back.

Hermione seethed. Was he calling her a coward for not saying something? Well, here's what she saw: a heartless, stupid, ferret who did not deserve to be at Hogwarts, let alone be Head Boy. Why, Hermione thought, a fit of rage overtaking her, he'd be better off with those death-eaters, that piece of shit.

She was still grumbling by the time she got to the portrait of two children.

---

Draco stepped in front of the portrait. The two children looked at him expectantly, waiting for the password.
Today, one child had a crown of daisies on her head, and she was delicately holding a sandwich in her left hand.
"Let me in." It was three words, three words filled with authority only the Head Boy could muster.

He could only feel a dull pounding in his ears as the girl giggled amiably, "Sorry Mister. No one's allowed in without a password."

He looked at her skeptically. "Not one?"

Her voice, although chirpy, had a resolute, unyielding edge, "No one."

Draco looked around-- making sure that no one was watching-- "Daisy."

The boy languidly picked an apple off the tree and bit into it. There was a slight wind in the background- Draco could see the branches swaying.

"Well, then," The boy gave an impish smile and the portrait opened, "In you go."

He stalked inside, muttering incoherently to himself, thinking of the imminent revenge he was going to wreak upon Granger.