****Thanks so much for reading guys! Just want to reiterate that JK is the ultimate divine ruler of Harry Potter R&R xx****

Two days later, my fractured tibia was held tight within a cast and my purpling chest was healing, slowly. The muggle healer - Doctor I think the muggles called him – had instructed me my lung would take approximately 12 weeks to recover. He hadn't seen fit to treat the bruising on my face, but recommended ice for pain relief. Three stitches laced my split lip and eight sealed the hole in my chest. Disregarding the doctor's dire warnings, I refused to walk with crutches, simply limping, an invisibility charm over my clunky cast at all times. I could not show weakness in front of my Hogwarts peers; it would be the height of embarrassment. There was little I could do about my face, however, and I was simply forced live with the blaringly obvious signs of a beating. Hopefully it appeared as though I had been in a fight with a fellow wizard, as opposed to being almost killed by my mentally deranged father.

I winced as the Hogwarts express gave a sudden lurch, emitting an audible groan of pain. It hurt to breathe, let alone move. I was presently alone in my carriage, leaning against the cool window next to my seat. Truthfully, I could barely hold myself up, the sheet of glass next to me baring most of my body's pressure. I refused to take the muggle pain killers the doctor had prescribed. While I had overcome my past judgments of their inferiority, I had not yet allowed myself to trust them completely. Surely, their medicine wasn't without side-effects; it just wasn't a risk I was willing to take, so, alas, pain was my ever-present tormentor. I absent-mindedly ran a hand through my white-blond hair, my grey eyes closing blissfully as sleep lapped at my senses, gentle ocean waves gliding across the sand. I allowed the sensation to take hole and unconsciousness seized my mind.

It felt like seconds later when I heard a gentle knock on my compartment door. I lifted my head away from the window, for it had rested against the cool glass as I slept, and glanced up to see an unmistakable mane of bushy brown hair standing tentatively in the doorway. My eyebrows quirked as Hermione gasped in shock at the sudden exposure of my beaten face; I really did look dreadful. At once, she hurriedly entered the compartment, sitting across from me, concern tainting her luminescent face.

"Malfoy! What's happened to you? Are you alright?" she exclaimed in a rush.

"Why hello, Granger. Nice to see you again, too," I drawled, sarcastically. To my disappointment, her anxiety failed to vanish, despite my nonchalance. I sighed heavily, "It's nothing. None of your business anyway." Annoyance pierced my tone, sharp and cool.

Thankfully, she withdrew slightly, for she had been leaning quite close to me, and glanced over my injuries with raised brows.

"Oh, there's no need to be rude, Malfoy, I was merely concerned. I just came in to make sure you knew the terms of your new position this year."

"What position?" I asked my annoyance quickly changing to bewilderment.

"You being head boy, obviously," Hermione sassed in a disbelieving tone. "And I'm head girl, remember? Didn't you read your letter? We'll be sharing a common room separate to those of our houses. I just wanted to make sure you knew about it all – which you evidently did not - and I hoped, well, I hoped we could make a sort of truce this year, since we'll be living so closely." The last part came out in a rush and she looked down at the floor, a slight blush tainting her cheeks.

I let out an incredulous bark of laughter. "You're joking. I can't be head boy! Isn't Potter or Weasley? Why would I be head boy? Honestly, what in the name of Merlin are you talking about, Granger?"

"Harry and Ron aren't coming back this year. They decided to start Auror training right away. I, on the other hand, thought it was more beneficial to regain the year of education I lost before I even considered a career," she said, coolly. "Malfoy, you're being an idiot. Why would I joke about this? Of course you're head boy. Professor McGonagall sent an owl explaining all this, why didn't you read it?"

The truth was I barely read any letters on the holidays, as I was trapped in the library hiding from Lucius, not that I was about to tell Granger that.

"Uh… I didn't get it. The owl, I mean. Well, okay, um, I suppose I say yes, then…"

"You suppose you say yes about what exactly, Malfoy?" She was being so uncharacteristically feisty; it was putting me off.

I cleared my throat, "I suppose we can have a truce then, Granger. Keep up," I rolled my eyes, playfully, unable to withhold the smirk claiming my face.

She was obviously taken aback, her brown eyes widening to the size of golf balls.

"Oh... uh okay. Great." She looked away, awkwardly. "Well I'm glad we, uh, sorted that out. Yes. Um, I should probably go. I'm supposed to be changed by now."

And, with that, she left the compartment, my smug eyes following her out of the door.