Hermione.

"Did you have the same lessons as we do, in your old school?"

Walking through the empty corridors, Hermione found herself generally intrigued by the conversation she was holding with Cordelia. The blonde has a very.. unusual nature. Ranging from going deadly quiet to the point of which Hermione would worry she was about to burst into hysterical sobs, to very, very loud, giving Hermione a head-ache.

Col was currently almost bouncing like a hyped up rabbit, staying a few steps ahead of Hermione at all times.

"Oh, yeah." Her voice was surprisingly calm, almost deadpan. "Except we had a few muggle subjects laced in." She paused to shrug, as if utterly confused by this notion herself. "We had a choice. We could take languages, such as German, Spanish, or French. Or we could study extra English, in a sense of grammar. Or extra Maths. But not a lot of people chose them."

"I can't imagine why." Hermione replied rather easily, pausing to lean against one of the marble pillars. "I'd relish in the ability to experience muggle subjects. It must be interesting.."

Col shrugged once more in return. "It was a lot of homework. And we didn't have time for it."

Twisting slightly to press the nape of her neck against the cold of the marble, she felt a flicker of fear and sudden remembrance press against her throat, and she swore she could almost smell her whacky Divinations teachers scent from here, clogging up her nose, overtaking each sense..

'Three times your future shall leave you. Three times you shall have a chance. By the time the feline purrs, it will be too late. Curiosity killed the cat!'

"Hermione?"

Three times.. My future. A chance? Three chances.. She thought desperately, a sudden panic gripping her chest, almost restricting her breath. A purring feline? Too late? Too late for what?

The riddles swam through her head in twisting turning patterns, almost leaving her in a state that was more confused than she began with.

Curiosity killed the cat?

The final line hit her with barbed hands, lifting her from her trance like state with a small intake of air.

"Hermione?" Cordelia's voice was tinged with annoyance, and a dash of impatience lingered in her eyes. "Aren't we going to Charms..?"

"Charms." Hermione repeated almost instantly, gripping onto the word with full force, trying to keep it as a focus, clearing her mind, staying in the present.

"Charms." Cordelia smiled at her. "What time does the lesson start?"

Shaking her head at her sudden stupidity, Hermione pulled out her crumpled timetable from her pocket, inspecting a small bunch of slanted and scrawled numbers in the corner.

"I've charmed it." Hermione explained as Col gave her a confused look. "It'll tell me how long until the next lesson starts. We have.. fifteen minutes. The class-room is literally in the next corridor."

Sighing, Cordelia moved herself so she was slumped against Hermione's pillar, closing her eyes slightly.

"Not too long." She observed.

Draco.

"What have you done, son?"

Lucius drawl was almost distant upon his ears, and Draco felt the urge to push it away, to curl, recede away into some sort of invisible form.

"Show me your hand."

Sticking out his hand in a robotic fashion, he slumped slightly, his back falling against the foot of his broken and smashed bed.

He heard a tut, and he peered through his eyes to asses the damage himself.

Splinters stuck out of every angle of his hand, dried blood mixing with fresh scarlet liquid that was starting to emerge as he flexed and twisted. His knuckles now almost shone with purple and yellow bruises, one of them looking like they had been scraped down to the very bone. His fingers seemed to stick out at a rather odd angle, but he felt himself shrugging, going to pull back his hand from his fathers inspection.

"S'nothing." He mumbled in a quiet, yet defiant voice, shame prickling under his skin.

Straightening up, Lucius narrowed his eyes slightly, the slight amount of fatherly care that had leaked into his posture almost evaporating at once.

"Then get up." He twisted around almost elegantly, and Draco snorted at the almost ballerina move.

"Let me guess.." Draco pushed himself up with his elbows, not risking putting weight on his hands. "More bad news? More training? Who got injured this time?" He spat out bitterly, moving to slick his greasy hair back with his more competent hand.

"Don't sound so.." Lucius paused at the door frame, twisting to look at Draco over his shoulder. "Reluctant. I know very will you enjoy what I teach you."

Opening his mouth to object to his fathers claims, the blonde found himself closing it, turning away slightly.

"No matter, Draco; I'm leaving. Once you have gotten yourself presentable, you will meet Sov in the kitchen. He'll further instruct you."

Rolling his eyes, Draco felt his mouth curve into an almost snarl, and he didn't bother to question it, simply allowing words to roll from his tongue with ease.

"If you're leaving, then fuck off." He paused, licking his dry lips. "I don't want your fucking presence here."

A growl. A smash. A slam.

A pounding pain slashing through Draco.

A gasp. A cry. A whimper.

"Draco?"

Sovs voice. Distant. Away. Not here. Not wanted.

A knock against the door.

Loud. Unwanted. Painful.

"Fuck off!"

His voice. His own voice. Comfort. Snarling. Angry. Feral.

A frail and skinny body falling against the somewhat inviting mattress, blonde hair slowly growing long due to the lack of a decent haircut splaying against the filthy covers.

A rushing head. Swimming thoughts. Unfocused. Blurry.

Hogwarts. He almost whispered to himself in a thought. Lessons.

The grounds. Charms. Potions. Defence against the Dark Arts.

He clung to the familiar thoughts as much as he could, reaching out with his hands as if to grasp them, despite the fact that his sudden sufferings now remained purely non physical.

Granger.

Hermione.

A harsh bell rang across the grounds, and the sound almost seemed to vibrate Hermiones chest, the sudden noise bringing her back to her surroundings, leaving her slightly drowsy. She hadn't fallen asleep per say, but she wasn't aware of the physical world around here in a clear sense.

Pulling herself from her slumped state, she ran a hand through her hair, grimacing slightly as she realised how she had let it go. It felt dirty and unwashed beneath her fingers.

Atleast Malfoy isn't here to see it..

Malfoy.

"Charms is this way, isn't it?"

Feeling a warm hand grasp her own, she felt the ground return beneath her with a sharp jerk, and she stumbled forwards lightly, grimacing as her knees smashed against the marble floor.

Cordelia had simply stepped backwards as she fell, giving her a curious look, not bothering to catch her, although Hermione was sure that she was within catching distance.

She nodded clumsily, pulling herself up, her knees aching.

"Down this corridor." She instructed, her voice getting a bit more strength. And yet, she could hear the distance in her voice herself. As if she wasn't talking to the blonde witch who strode beside her, but to her own self.

She shrugged, as if trying to shrug off her troublesome thoughts as well.

Draco.

"Draco, you have to get up."

Sov's voice ripped him from his slumber, and Draco found himself suddenly on his feet, wand drawn.

"I am up." He replied in a sarcastic voice, his limbs suddenly feeling fresh and movable.

The door creaked open, and the chubby balding man stepped inside, casting a shocked glance at the ruined room.

"What the bloody hell did you do in here, boy?" Sov almost growled at him, anger strong in his voice. "This room was my grandmothers! And you've gone.."

The man paused, then breathed out slowly, returning his face to his normal goofy smile. Reaching towards his large behind, he extracted a wand from one of his robe pockets, fumbling with it before he managed to correctly hold it.

"You feel like getting changed and such, Draco?"

Yawning loudly, Draco stepped out of the way as the debris that once lay motionless on the floor began to twist and turn, returning to their previous position.

"I see no reason to get changed. I am fine in this." He paused to gesture at his attire. He had long thrown away his uniform which was tattered and ruined, opting instead to simply adorn a pair of old black trousers, a dark green shirt hugging his torso.

"I don't expect you'll be allowed back ta' school with that, sonny." Sov commented dryly, clicking his tongue.

"School?"

"Lucius didn't tell you?" Draco shook his head, and Sov laughed almost.. bitterly? "He don't tell you naffin'. Er, well, you're going back to school, basically. Your father has returned home to clean up the Manor for your training to continue."

"Did he say anything about Mother?" Draco pressed, desperate for information.

Sov shook his head, smiling sadly. "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter." Draco sighed back, his posture relaxing slightly. "Have you got me-..Auugh!"

Letting out a bitter snarl escape his opened jaw, tears tore down his cheek almost instantly as his hand began to spasm in pain.

Each individual splinter began to yank their way out of his hand and knuckles, bursting through the thin layers of skin that had began to heal overnight.

"Fuck!" He whimpered, falling to his knees as the unhealthy amount of pain coursing through his system caused his eyes to roll to the back of his head, vision darkening.

"Sorry 'bout that." Sov mumbled to him. But he he didn't sound fucking sorry.

"Fucking idiot!" Draco gasped out as his eyesight returned to him, scarlet liquid drawling down his hands.

A bundle of fabric hit him against his chest, tumbling into his lamp with a soft hmpf.

Blinking away the sudden moisture in his eyes, he managed to focus on the clean uniform that felt like a velvet sheet against his flawed skin.

Grabbing the emerald tie, he wrapped it around the worse of his two hands, stemming the blood flow as much as he could.

"Get out then." He snarled, although his voice felt weak and deadpan, his energy drained. "I'm not getting changed with your fucking piggy eyes on me."

Sov laughed quietly, before giving a sort of sarcastic bow, moving his hand to stroke the '7' shaped mark just above his eyebrow.

"Oh, I've seen much worse." He joked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

But Draco didn't laugh.

With another small chuckle, Sov ducked his head out of the room, closing the door behind him with a gentle click.

Immediately pulling off the thin green shirt that was now stained with his own blood, he threw it to his feet, stepping forward to examine himself in front of the newly-fixed body-length mirror.

He almost wanted to make a noise of disgust at the figure that he saw before him, and he settled for a disapproving snort. His chest and stomach, once toned from quiditch, now simply remained flat, looking out of shape.. and scrawny.

Moving his hand to gently tease at a small, faint scar that wrapped around his ribcage, trailing up to his heart, his body gave a slight flinch, and he felt a rush of warmth between his thighs.

Moving his hand to cease the sensual touching, he paused, placing his palm flat against his stomach, smirking slightly at how smooth it felt, so pure. No scars here..

Granger has a scar.

He didn't question the thought, his slow strip in front of the mirror, and the exploration of his body had eased him into a sort of calm trance, and he had never felt so very relaxed.

He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift back to his little sleep episode.

He had long since accepted what had happened, no longer trying to fight it. He had seen her scratches on her arm before, seen the sudden darkness in her eyes.. but feeling it. Experiencing it, almost being there.. It was real. Serious. Real.

Shaking his head away from Hermion-.. Granger, He let himself stand shirtless for a few more minutes, allowing the cold breeze to whisk around him and take away some of the emotional stress he felt like he was literally carrying on his shoulders.

Leaning down, he gently pulled his trousers to his feet, stepping out of them with ease, kicking them aside without much regard, his boxers following shortly.

He didn't bother to inspect his lower half in the mirror; he knew perfectly well what he would find.

He didn't really want to see all the pinprick scars the brambles his father had set on him had left; nor did he want to see the burns he had endured from when he had accidentally upturned a potion of boiling water, while he was supposed to be brewing killing mixes for his father.

Moving to the pile of clothes he had been given, he ran a critical eye over them, grabbing his wand from the floor and casting a quick cleaning spell over them, not entirely trusting their innocent appearances. It would be just like his father to put a controlling-hex on them.

Sighing, he realised he really didn't have enough energy to deal with his sudden paranoia, so he shrugged on the clothes without a second glance, keeping his back turned firmly to the mirror.

Looking down at his hands, his emerald tie still held a so many small wounds shut, and he knew removing the piece of taunt fabric would simply cause him too much pain for him to handle, he left it.

Grabbing his wand and shoving it in his robe pocket, he sent a glare over his shoulder at the mirror, taking a few seconds, and only a few seconds to adjust his hair.

"Sov!" He almost screeched, his voice turning hoarse from the strain.

Hermione

"Uh, Harry." Hermione whispered. "Ron. This is Cordelia."

The two boys turned almost eagerly, desperate to get away from the fact that Flitwick was rambling away about something they'd learnt last lesson.. but no-one had to heart to tell the small teacher that.

Ron and Harry sat on the table in front of Hermione and Cordelia, so they twisted their chair around, trying to edge back as in as subtle fashion as possible.

Luckily for them, Flitwick was way too involved in trying to get the Slytherin half of the room to pay attention, the white-haired wizard didn't really care that four people now huddled around a two person desk.

"Cordeelea?" Ron blinked, seemingly unable to pronounce the word.

"Cordelia." Hermione repeated impatiently.

Ron opened his mouth to attempt once more, but Col smiled, interrupting with a an almost arrogant voice, as if amused by Rons lack of pronunciation skills.. and not in a good way.

"You can just call me Col, if you'd like." She grinned, or.. it looked like she grinned. It looked almost like it was starting to drip with malice.

"Col." Ron looked back at her, unsmiling. He'd picked up on her tone as well.

"It's nice to meet you, Col." Harry smiled happily, and Ron shot him a confused look.

Harry moved his shoulders in a disguised shrug, as if to say 'Give her a chance.'

Adjusting slightly, Hermione pulled a book from her bag, placing it against the desk, resting her cheek against the cold, hard leather.

"What's he even going on about?" Col snorted loudly, and Hermione felt a flicker of fear in her chest and how loud her comment was.

She shh'd her half-heartedly, trying to strain her ears to listen, despite already knowing everythingbeing said.

"Seriously! This is a load of shit." Col snapped loudly, her voice turning shrill.

Flitwick suddenly turned around, obviously catching the sound of Col's voice, despite him being on the other side of the class room.

"Miss Nicholls!" His voice was brewing with anger, and the whole class turned its attention to the blonde.. and to Hermiones disgrace, the fuzzy-haired brunette shying away next to her. "I don't want to hear such language in my class again!" He squeaked, waddling over to them. "That is.. beyond unacceptable! And you, Miss Granger! I would expect better!"

Hermione opened her mouth to object, but all she managed to do was splutter.

"Cordelia Nicholls, Detention!" He ordered strictly, his little face growing red. And she heard Col giggle from beside her, and she felt herself fighting one aswell.

"Wipe that smirk from your face, Hermione Granger!" He ordered, leaning up on tiptoes and tapping his stubby fingers against the desk naggingly. "You will report to Hagrid and help out with his grounds-keeper works for the rest of this lesson, and including your lunch!"

Feeling shame well up inside her, she shot an angry look at Col next to her, but found her anger dissolve as she realised the blonde was in hysterics.

She felt a smile creep on her lips.. slightly.

"Right now..?" She sighed, grabbing her bag and pulling it over her shoulder. Normally, she might of begged to say in this lesson, but the tedious ramblings of already known-logic was giving her a bit of a headache.

She wasn't too fussed about missing lunch, anyway. The hunger pains she had grown to love had faded away lightly, and she missed them.

Missed the pangs- the pangs of pain.

"Yes!" Flitwick squeaked. "I hope you learn your lesson!"

Without another word, Hermione stood from her desk, shoving her wand into her robe pocket, and stowing the few pens she had out back into her pencil case.

Whispering a hurried goodbye to Harry and Ron, she suddenly felt the heat of each pair of eyes in the room staring at her, and she felt a blush creep up her neck, taking her cheek in a rough embrace.

Then she turned, and met the bright blue eyes of Cordelia.

And she smiled.

Hitching her bag higher on her shoulder, and sticking out her chin slightly, she fought away her self-conscious thoughts that loomed over, baring their fangs.

And she continued on to the grounds.

Draco

"And how exactly am I supposed to be getting to Hogwarts?" He frowned as Sov shoved his old school bag towards him, now clean from the mud and grime it had picked up from the swamps him and his father had trampled through.

"Dumbledore has set you up a portkey." He explained quietly. "Your father has had words with him. Simply told him you were away on family business. The old fool obviously fell for it."

Sov laughed, a wheezy sort of mewl.

Draco didn't join in.

"I thought you couldn't get through with portkeys.." Draco frowned, moving forward to check his hair in a small, grime-encrusted mirror. "Restrictions, repelling spells?"

"Dumbledore has lifted them for a short time." Sov continued on, donning a large black coat. "Which is why it's important we're on time."

Pulling out a chair, Draco took a seat in it, sipping on the cup of tea Sov has so kindly prepared for him.

He snorted. The drink was fucking cold. Idiotic fat..

His thoughts trailing off into a fair few profanities, he let his mind relax slightly, falling into an almost-rest.. teetering on the edge of the physical world and the realms of dreams..

"Draco, thirty seconds."

Sov extended a filthy paw, a small emerald watch resting gently in the scruffy palm.

Taking the metal into his palm, Draco stood up, grabbing his school bag in the hand that was tied up with his emerald tie.

"See you later, Draco!" Sov grinned as the air around him began to twist and turn..

And then Sov yanked hard against Dracos tie, causing it to come loose, the fabric tearing off a million scabs at once.

Pain shooting through him one more, Draco felt his body fall in an odd pattern.. like he was falling to his knees.. but there was no place for his knees to rest.

In his shock, he felt his school bag slip from his grasp, and amongst all the pain and anger welling through him, he felt a flicker of disappointment. He liked that bag.

And then everything seemed to black out.

There was grass. There was green grass. Soft green grass.

There was rain. Cold rain. Harsh cold rain.

There was a physical presence close. A female presence.

There was pain.

Cheeks moist with rain.. or tears.. he couldn't tell.

Lifting his hand to inspect it, he groaned. Scarlet blood covered each inch of skin, and what the rain washed away, his body simply pumped out more.

Curling up, he pressed his injured hand against his chest, almost in a fetal position.

Fucking Sov.. He whined inside his head, his teeth chattering. Nice fucking trick, the prick. How funny, pull the tie away! Make me drop my bag..

"Draco?" A gasped female voice.. laced with fear.. anger.. shock.. and relief.

"Granger?"

Quick proof-read.

I can't write much, being shouted at. Sorry for the long wait, hope this is okay! Please review, love you all so much!

-Kawi

xx