He was relieved by Madam Hooch, who stood waiting with a scroll of parchment, rolled tight, in her hand. With a curt nod, he bypassed her and made his way up to the teacher's table where he sat next to Hermione. He didn't make a sound and did not try to catch her eye. Instead, he sat rigidly, gazing ahead.

Hermione, tempted as she was to glance over at him, kept her eyes fixed ahead as well. Her cheeks burned read and she felt lightheaded. Desperate to regain control of her emotions, as well as her blood pressure, she snatched the empty goblet and muttered softly, "Pumpkin juice." To her relief, it filled quickly with a swirling orange liquid; She leaned back in her seat and sipped it slowly.

The Sorting Hat wiggled to life on the stool and began to recite its most recent song.

"Hoist the colors, wear them bold

The bravest wear those of red and gold

Or perhaps the way of wisdom is what you choose

In that case, you'll bear bronze and blue

But if noble power is what you seek

Perhaps you'll wear silver and green

And if instead you are a humble fellow

Then bear proudly your colors of black and yellow

But keep in mind and take to heart

That whether the times seem light or dark

You don't have to keep to your own kind

Because another house may hold a great ally

So step up now, and slip me on

And I will tell you where it is that you belong"

Madam Hooch began to recite the names on the list before her, but Hermione had stopped paying attention when the hat fell silent.

A small, black headed girl stepped nervously up to the stool where she took a seat. Madam Hooch placed the Sorting Hat on her head and after a moment it announced out, "Ravenclaw!"

The Ravenclaw table erupted into applause, although it was not as impressive as it had been in years before. The little girl leaped off the stool and sprinted over to her house table.

Hermione sat in a daze while the rest of the sorting continued. She wanted to sink down in her chair, under the table, and remain there until it was possible for her to leave the hall. When the final student was sorted into Slytherin there was a final round of applause and, Madam Hooch took the stool and the Sorting Hat away; Then, Professor McGonagall stood to address the hall. This time, Hermione did pay attention, because she knew what was coming.

"I want to wish you all a warm welcome," she said warmly. The hall was perfectly quiet; No one dared interrupt McGonagall's oration. "As I'm sure you are all wondering, a great deal of people assisted this summer in reconstructing the castle, and we have made the difficult decision of reopening this school year. Due to an unexpected turn of events, there have been several staff changes from last year, and I would like to introduce to you your new staff.

This year, Potions will be taught by Professor Malfoy."

Draco stood next to Hermione and nodded curtly, before taking his seat once again and continued to stare blankly out over the hall.

"Transfiguration will be taught by Professor Granger."

Hermione stood up shakily, bumping the table in front of her and trying not curse out loud. She waved quickly at the tables of students before taking her seat.

"Ancient Runes will be taught by Professor Wood."

The handsome professor that Hermione had found familiar stood up and smiled at the crowd. It was then that Hermione realized where she knew him from: He was Oliver Wood, ex-captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He then resumed his seat and Professor McGonagall continued with the roll call.

"Professor Hatchet will be teaching Muggle Studies."

The thin, pretty witch stood up and curtsied.

"And, finally, Professor Potter will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry stood up and waved nervously to the crowd. There was an eruption of applause; Hermione was certain it was mainly for Harry's presence, rather than for the other professors.

Professor McGonagall held up a hand to silence the students, and the applause died quickly.

"I know the rest of you are as hungry as I am, so let us feast."

At her words, food appeared on the empty platters set out at all of the tables and there were many "oohs" and "aahs" throughout the hall. Everyone had begun to eat and as Hermione watched everyone enjoying their sumptuous dinner, she began to pick at the food on her plate. However, her mind was not on food. She hardly noticed her stomach rumbling or the incredible smell of roasted chicken. Instead, her mind was focused solely on the man to her right and how he was not eating either.

Hermione fought for something to say to him, but what was there to say? Draco had left her, without an explanation, but with a promise that he would see her again, and then he had hardly bothered to write. It was as though he had decided that she wasn't good enough for him after all, but he didn't have the heart to tell her so. And to top it all off, he was mocking her now, by teaching at Hogwarts after he had expressed his blatant distaste for the place. Hermione was miserable.

As she struggled to decide the way best to approach him, she saw him move out of the corner of her eye.

For the first time, she did look at him, but just in time to see him walking away, his food left untouched. He was headed toward the door behind them. Hermione only hesitated for a moment, before she made a split second decision. She pushed her chair away from the table and turned to follow him.

She flew through the door, focused solely on catching him before he disappeared into one of the corridors. She saw his gray robes flowing behind him as he walked, swiftly, toward the dungeons.

"Draco!" Hermione called, finding her voice.

He did not stop.

"Draco!" Wait!"

She saw him falter before he came to a halt, however he did not turn back. Instead, he waited as he was for her to catch up with him. Hermione walked briskly, but slowed as she reached his side.

"Draco?" she asked softly as she stepped in front of him.

He gazed down at her slowly, reluctant to meet her eyes, and when he did she saw something that frightened her. The side of his face was bruised, but it appeared to be healing. It was blotchy and muddled with purples and yellows. She had not seen it from far away, but now that she was so close to him, it looked rather terrible. She fought back a scream and waited for Draco to say something.

He didn't.

"What happened?" she said, reaching for his cheek.

He jerked slightly, but allowed her to softly touch his face.

"It's nothing," he muttered and clasped her hand in his. He lowered them slowly, but did not let go.

"It doesn't look like nothing," she snapped.

"I've had worse."

"Is this why you stopped writing me?" Hermione asked, dangerously close to the verge of tears.

"Partially," he said. He glanced around the corridor to assure that they were alone before adding, "Walk with me?"

Hermione was not very familiar with the dungeons; She had only ever been there for Potions class. Draco led her through several passageways and down a long flight of stairs before they ducked into an empty room and closed the door. As she glanced around, she realized that it was an office.

There was a large desk in the center of the room, and glass shelves topped with precious potions ingredients lined most of the wall space. A large, golden cauldron sparkled in the corner of the room; it appeared to be the only thing down here that wasn't gray, black, or brown. Cautiously, Hermione crossed the room and took a seat in front of the desk.

"This was..." she started to say, before Draco cut her off.

"Snape's old office. And now it's mine."

"When did you get here? I thought you weren't coming back," Hermione said before dropping her voice and adding, "I looked for you on the train."

Draco didn't answer immediately. A vial on one of the shelves had caught his interest and he was now turning it over in his hand. "I wasn't. And I've been here for two weeks."

Hermione's eyes grew. "Are you going to tell me what's going on, or do I have to force it out of you? Because I'm not beyond it, just so you know. I've been losing my mind thinking that you decided you hated me after all."

Draco laughed and replaced the vial on the shelf. He crossed the room to where Hermione sat and extended his hand to her. Skeptically, she took it and allowed him to pull her out of the chair. He pulled her to him in a swift motion and wrapped her in his arms. Hermione, who had longed to feel his touch since the day he left her house, felt her knees go weak.

"I don't hate you," he whispered in her ear.

As much as Hermione wanted to be mad at him, she could not find it in herself to be angry. She wanted to yell at him, to tell him how upset she had been, to tell him that she had thought about him every single day since he left her, but she simply couldn't do it. The fact that they were together, and that she was nestled in his arms, was enough to make her forget ever having been upset or mad or disappointed. All she felt now was pure elation.

Draco slackened his grip on her, but she did not move away. She did not want him to let her go. If she could have stayed wrapped in his arms all night, it still would have ended too soon for her liking. Instead, Draco leaned against his desk and allowed her to lean against him in turn, resting her head on his chest so that she might hear his heart beat. He didn't know how long they had stood there in silence before Hermione finally asked him again what had happened.

"My parents knew I hadn't gone to Blaise's. When they got my Hogwarts letter, they sent my letter ahead to his house, and that son of a..." Draco caught himself. It was all over; There was no reason to get mad now. If only he had warned him first, Blaise would have covered for him. "Blaise sent the letter back with a note saying that the owl must have gone confused and arrived at the wrong house.

My father was furious that I had lied to him, and when I got home he wanted to know where I had actually been. I told him the first thing that had come to mind... which was that I had stayed at the Leaky Cauldron. But, that obviously wasn't good enough for him, because he contacted Tom, the owner, to see when I had checked out. Tom told him that I hadn't been in at all that week.

So when he asked a third time, I knew I was running out of options, but I still couldn't tell him where I had really gone. We got in a huge fight and I told him that I was of age, and that I could make my own decisions and that I could do what I wanted. He didn't like that." Draco gestured to his face and Hermione shuddered. She imagined Lucius, swatting Draco in the face with his walking cane.

"When I finally did read my letter from Hogwarts, it was just like yours. Professor McGonagall had offered me the Potions job," he continued. "After the fight with my father, I refused to stay there. I packed all my things and wrote to Professor McGonagall to let her know that I would be arriving earlier than expected. She doesn't ask too many questions, Minerva, but she knows something happened."

"I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered. "I'm sorry about everything that's happened. Maybe this just isn't meant to be."

Draco looked as though she had slapped him. His eyes were searching her face, hoping that she was joking, but nothing in Hermione's expression told him that she was anything less than serious. "Is that how you feel then?"

Hermione shook her head. "Look at all the trouble it's caused."

"I don't care what kind of trouble it caused," he said flatly. "Things can't get much worse for me, if you want to know the truth, so there's no point trying to smooth it over now. My family is disgraced. There's not many wizards who have respect for us anymore, after everything that's happened. My father has already decided whose side he's on, and I refuse to be a part of it. So, really, what more harm can I do?"

Hermione stared up into his stormy gray eyes. Her heart swelled in her chest; It amazed her how much Draco had changed, and was still changing before her very eyes. If only everyone else could see the Draco she knew, then they would easily change their mind about him. He was nothing like Lucius Malfoy - a vile, treacherous troll. Up until the fall of Voldemort, being a Malfoy had treated Draco to riches and social status better than much of the wizarding world, but ever since Voldemort's demise, his name had become his curse.

Draco rested his cheek on top of Hermione's head and hugged her close.

"Owling you this summer was the best mistake I could have made."