The dense sea of nervous looking students and families parted to allow the passage of a certain pale, blonde Slytherin, wearing a new and expensive looking black suit tailored to fit him perfectly. Draco Malfoy was getting used to this kind of treatment. Now that the entire wizarding world knew of his father's dark allegiance, they regarded him with fear, assuming him to soon join his father in the ranks of the Death Eaters, doing the bidding of He Who Must Not Be Named. Draco smirked to himself. Little did they know that their fears and presumptions had already been realized, that the Slytherin prefect was already an official Death Eater in full service to the Dark Lord. A tingle shot up through his right forearm at this thought, and he reflexively tugged at his sleeve to cover more of his wrist.

The first of September had come much more quickly this year than Draco could ever remember. It was time for him to return to Hogwarts and carry out his dark mission. Not a day had gone by since the Dark Lord's visit that he did not ponder how he would ever manage to carry out the deed, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not envision himself inflicting murder on the Granger girl. The thought always left him feeling sick and strangely empty inside, at which time he would generally take to sulking in his room for hours at a time. His mother was a nervous wreck. She had been in such a state of hysterics that morning that she could not even accompany him to the station, so his aunt Bellatrix accompanied him instead, disguised as his mother with the aid of polyjuice potion, to see him off at the platform entrance. Bellatrix had been maddeningly enthusiastic about Draco's assignment over the past few weeks, giving him advice on how to get Granger alone and unprotected. She also made him practice the Avada Kedavra over and over again on rats and any other small animal she could find until he was completely proficient at it.

Draco tried to clear his head and just concentrate on behaving the way the son of a dangerous Death Eater would be expected to. He made his way to the entrance of the nearest car through the clouds of steam billowing from the scarlet engine, an arrogant strut in his step and his facial features fixed firmly into the Malfoy mask. Once on the train, he received more of the same treatment that he had encountered outside. Younger students hurried out of the corridor into their compartments, only to press their timid faces against the window and stare as he walked briskly by. The older students he passed, if they were Slytherins, acknowledged him with a head nod or a smirk. If they were from the other houses, they met his silver gaze with either apprehensive looks or stony expressions, their jaws rigidly set and their fists clenched at their sides. Still, there were a few first years who looked on confusedly, wondering why this thin, platinum-haired teenager was eliciting such reactions. They would learn soon enough, Draco thought humorlessly as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station.

He continued his march down the corridor of the train until he reached the very last compartment which was already occupied by his fellow Slytherins Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle.

"Draco!" Pansy exclaimed as he stepped through the sliding door. His face was immediately smothered in fruity-scented black hair as she dashed forward and trapped him in a tight embrace.

"Bloody hell woman!" Draco protested, "Can I at least put my trunk down before you maul me?"

She was unabashed as Draco pushed her off of him, giggling as she let herself fall gracefully back into her seat. The others snickered as Draco stowed his trunk into the overhead compartment and then slid into the empty seat next to Blaise.

"So how was summer with mummy Draco?" his dark-skinned friend scoffed, knowing from Draco's loud and frequent complaints over the years just how overbearing the woman could be.

"Hmpf, how do you think, Zabini? With Father gone, the bloody old bat wouldn't give me moment's piece, always following me around trying to mollycoddle me in one way or another. I expect she's curled up with one of my old socks weeping her eyes out right now."

Blaise laughed and shook his head while Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly on the other bench. Pansy rolled her heavily shadowed eyes with a coy smile playing on her dark lips.

At that moment the lunch trolley passed by, and the five of them loaded up on as many sweets as they could fit into their greedy arms, nearly depleting the old witches stock. They spent almost an hour happily munching on chocolate frogs, licorice wands, pumpkin pasties, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans (Crabbe choked on a dung-flavored bean, much to the delight of his fellow Slytherins). Their conversations drifted among several topics that they found amusing. They compared O.W.L. scores, during which Pansy insisted that the female administrator had deducted points only because she was jealous of her "elegant curvature," and they all tried to figure out if Crabbe and Goyle had scraped enough scores to officially be considered sixth years. They then proceeded to entertain themselves by voicing some of their suspected teacher relationships ("have you seen the way Flitwick looks at McGonagall?"), reliving some of Ron Weasley's more deplorable quidditch performances (several verses of "Weasley Is Our King" followed this), and delivering more abuse to Draco's over-protective mother.

Draco was enjoying himself so much that, for a while, he forgot all about the Dark Lord and his sinister mission. This reverie was cut short, however, with a sharp rapping on the glass door to their compartment. Draco whipped his head around and felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach as his silver eyes took in the very familiar face of a brunette girl in Gryffindor robes glaring daggers at him and gesturing impatiently.

"What are you doing here, Mudblood!" Pansy shrieked, her face skrewed up in disgust.

"I should be the one asking you that, Parkinson." Hermione retorted, pulling open the sliding glass door and crossing her arms over her chest. She kept her voice even, speaking sternly but not shouting, "Did you two forget that we have prefect duties? We have to patrol the corridors."

Pansy let out a loud mock groan, "Oh no no no! Draco, we've neglected our prefect duties!" she simpered sardonically.

Everyone else in the compartment laughed, except Draco. He could not take his eyes away from Granger. It felt as though he were seeing her for the first time. Her hair, once a bushy mess surrounding her head, was sleek and shiny, falling over her shoulders in elegant curls. Her skin was white and smooth. She had full, pink lips, and her eyes… Draco had never seen eyes so beautiful… so full of passion. What was wrong with him? This was Hermione Granger, the muggle-born, in front of him. And he was Draco Bleeding Malfoy, pureblood Death Eater. They were supposed to hate each other. He had orders to killher! And yet, here he was practically drooling over the girl.

At that moment, to Draco's horror, Granger shifted her scathing eyes away from the cackling form of Pansy and found Draco staring up at her like a love-drunk idiot. All the anger left her face for a brief moment and was replaced by one of pure bemusement.

Draco quickly ripped his gaze away before the others noticed this nonverbal exchange, leaving Granger in a flustered silence. He couldn't believe he had been so careless as to let himself be caught gawking like that…. He must be going mad! Working to arrange his features as best he could into what he hoped was an arrogant sneer, he forced himself to laugh along with the others.

Much of her gusto lost now, Granger turned back to Pansy and the others and attempted to continue her berating, stealing one last uncertain glance at Draco.

"A-and you're not even in your school robes! If Professor McGonagall knew about this, you would all be—

"Oh Merlin, Granger, will you shut up and go away?" Pansy was becoming visibly irritated now. She stood up and moved to close the sliding door. Granger retreated a couple of steps.

"Look, you slimy gits have to pull your weight just like the rest of us," piped up the voice of Ron Weasley, bracing a freckled hand against the door to prevent Pansy from slamming it shut. Draco had been so distracted he had not even noticed he was there. Crabbe and Goyle stood up and took positions on either side of Pansy like two body guards, flexing their bulging muscles and looking rather intimidating. They each seemed to have grown about a foot over the summer. Blaise slyly slipped his hand into his wand pocket, sitting upright and alert.

"Shove off Weasel!" Pansy scoffed in his face. "Draco and I will handle the last cars. You and your mudblood girlfriend can go back to your section!"

"DON'T CALL HER THAT!"

A ringing silence fell immediately after this command was bellowed by not one, but two male voices. All eyes in the compartment were widened and shock and fixed on Draco, who suddenly became aware that he was standing up and breathing very heavily. What had he done? Had he really just said that? Had he really just defendedher? Horrified, he pushed his way through the stunned knot of Slytherins and Gryffindors at the door and strode off down the corridor as quickly as he could, ignoring the six pairs of eyes boring holes into his back and trying hard to forget how lovely Grangers face looked with a rosy blush on her luminescent white cheeks.