Chapter Three

Hermione found the rest of the evening almost unbearable, even though she didn't see Malfoy for the rest of the night.

Compared to how Hermione remembered the Gryffindor dorms, theses new rooms were quite different. When you stepped through the door, once Boldolov the Brave had stepped aside, you were in the common room. Straight ahead, on the back wall there was a large fireplace, larger than the one in the Gryffindor common room. It was grander, somehow; more stately. The surrounding room had two couches, made of black leather, and several squishy armchairs, made of a textured faded black fabric. The carpet was predominantly black, with gold and silver designs that looped around each other.

Hermione was surprised to find that all this black wasn't depressing, it seemed sophisticated and understated, not dark and gloomy. The light from the wooden chandelier, as well as the light radiating from the fire made it seem warm and homey, as opposed to cold and dreary. She missed the comfort of the red of Gryffindor, but with three of the four houses represented, she supposed that they could hardly pick any colours associated with a singular house for the common area.

Standing in the common room, you could see two doors, that were exactly opposite from each other in the room. One was labeled "Gentlemen" and the other, "Ladies."

After getting her bearings, Hermione sequestered herself away in her new dorm room - a two person room, as she and Susan were the only females.

Hermione found their dorm to be much nicer than she had expected. There were two four poster beds on either side of their room, one had red bedding and hangings, and the other yellow. She supposed that this was to make them feel more at home. They also had a desk each, and a private washroom.

Hermione was barely sitting down on her bed when Susan walked in.

"Hello, Hermione," she said kindly.

"Hello Susan," Hermione responded, smiling encouragingly.

"It was nice of them to give us our house colours for our beds. It makes me feel better about this living situati-" she broke off quickly, blushing, "not that I don't like you, I'm sure living with you will be lovely, it's just that I-"

"Susan, don't worry, I understand. I'm sure we'll get along fine, it's just not home. It's not like living in Gryffindor tower, or - where is it that Hufflepuffs live, anyway?"

"Oh, it's down near the kitchens. One of the muggle-born girls a few years younger than us said it's kind of like a 'Hobbit hole?' it's in a book that she read, I think. I've also heard rumors that it's modeled after a badger's den."

"Oh, J.R.R Tolkien! I've read that too! Hmm, that sounds cozy."

"Oh it is!" replied Susan eagerly, relieved, it seemed, to find something comfortable to talk about.

"It's very warm, and there's lots of places to sit, and it's all yellow and happy, and I" she paused, "I'll miss it," she finished a little sadly, looking down at her hands.

The two witches regarded each other pleasantly. Maybe this living arrangement wouldn't be so bad, at least in terms of their bedroom.

With that, the two prepared for bed. It had been a long day, and the first day of classes was looming ever nearer.

As Hermione lay down to sleep, her thoughts drifted back to less pleasant topics. Could she live here with Draco Malfoy? Could she get over what had happened in the past year? She instinctively held her scarred arm. This move provided both comfort and pain. Not physical pain, but it brought the memories rushing back, when she could trace the thick lines spelling out the slur that had come to define the last few years of her life. Of all their lives, really.

Hermione drifted to sleep, but she had troubled dreams. The star of those dreams was none other than Malfoy himself. She kept going through dream scenarios where she was in various levels of pain and distress, and he just stood there, looking at her. First she was attacked by a hippogriff, then a dementor, then by giant, sentient knives. Finally, it was Bellatrix, and Malfoy replayed his role of not-so-innocent bystander, after re-living that particular scenario, Hermione jerked awake, to find that it was half past four in the morning. Needless to say, Hermione did not have a good night's rest; She did not get back to sleep that night.

*
Draco Malfoy did not like these new living arrangements. Gone were the dark green leather couches, gone were the snakes carved into the mantlepiece. Gone weres all signs that this used to be a part of the Slytherin living quarters.

Draco didn't want to go to the boys dorm room. Draco didn't want to spend any time with any Hufflepuff, and he certainly didn't want to spend any time with the Gryffindors. Instead, Draco took to roaming around the castle in the dead of night.

It was calming and familiar, to walk around these halls. He felt at peace for the first time in days. As Draco considered the last week, his thoughts drifted to his mother. Narcissa, he now called her. Somehow 'mother' seemed too motherly a term for her. She wasn't a cold woman, it was just that she was tough, and they'd been through so much. It seemed only right that he address her by her first name. He was an adult now, after all, and they were equals. They were all each other had.

Draco felt the bitter venom of hate and resentment course through his veins - a feeling that he was all too accustomed to. It's not like they'd had more than each other before, even when his father was, well, a real person. A real person with a soul, however flawed that soul may be, was much better than someone without a soul. Someone who was just a shell.

Draco was glad that they'd found a place to keep him, for lack of a better word. He wouldn't have been able to leave her there, knowing he was on the property. The original plan was to keep Lucious in a small cottage on their land, but Draco couldn't bear it. His father could wander out, maybe get into the house, and Draco didn't want Narcissa to have to see her husband ever again. Truth be told, Draco wouldn't have left at all if Narcissa hadn't insisted on it. He was loathe to leave her, but the thought of Draco graduating Hogwarts seemed to bring her some happiness, and he couldn't bring himself to deny her that after all that had happened.

Draco had only seen his father once since the Kiss had been administered. And that had been enough. He had gone to ensure that he was taken to the right place. Draco had used some of his family money to buy a small cottage a couple of miles from Malfoy Manor. He had also ordered their new house elf, Minxy, to stay there and ensure that Lucious ate, and didn't soil himself. The physical body still needed to be taken care of and seen to, even if the man inside it was long dead.

Draco had never seen anything more disturbing in his entire life. The gaunt, hopeless thing that had sat in front of him was not his father. The thing didn't even know that Draco was there. It just sat there, staring sightlessly and drooling, swaying slightly. It was a sight that haunted him when he closed his eyes. It was that memory, coupled with his extreme displeasure at being here that had him up and wandering, instead of sleeping soundly in his bed.

After roaming the castle for a few hours, Draco realized that it was almost morning. He decided to go the Owlery and write a letter to his mother to assure her of his arrival.

Dear Narcissa,
I've arrived at Hogwarts. It looks like it did before, they've managed to restore it.
I am the only Slytherin who has come back in both seventh and eighth year, so I will have to get to know the younger Slytherins if I want anyone to talk with, I suppose.

There wasn't an extra dormitory for eighth years, so they've converted the seventh-year Slytherin's floor into a dormitory and common room for the seven of us that have returned. I am extremely displeased. I am now living with Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter, of all people. There's another Gryffindor and two Hufflepuffs, but I don't really know who they are, nor do I care.

I hope that you are well, and that you are not too lonely. I will write again in a few days.

Faithfully,
Draco

By the time that Draco had finished writing, the sun was up, his mouth caught in a wide yawn. He estimated that it was 6 in the morning or so, and he was starting to feel the effects of his all-nighter. He called down one of the school owls from the top of the Owlrey - his owl had been killed by Bellatrix in a fit of anger after Potter had escaped from the manor, and her clutches. She needed to "hurt something" she said. Draco shivered, the memories of his aunt were disturbing to him. Especially since it was his owl. He had liked his owl. She couldn't have killed something less useful?

He tied the letter to the owl's leg and watched as it flew away, turning into a speck in the sky, and headed back down the stairs. He supposed that he might as well go straight to the Great Hall, even if breakfast hadn't been served yet, he would prefer sitting alone in that large room, than to sitting alone in that tiny common room, with those people, who would know doubt stare at him. He sighed. This was going to be a long and lonely year, and he was not looking forward to a minute of it.