AN: I wrote the plot for this in 2010, but I think I'm going to treat it as a new story. Even though I'm working with an old idea, I can see myself taking a different direction than I had initially intended.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy, please read and review.

Release

Chapter one – It's Easier to hide

She tried to hold back the sigh in her throat as she took in the slanting silhouette of the burrow, but it escaped anyway. She watched as tiny rain droplets showered around the building. It had been a distinctly English summer, cold and dreary.

Moving to the burrow for the last two weeks of summer used the be the best part of the holidays, but the usually happy occurrence had been tainted by the umbrella of turmoil over her life.

Bleak, yes.

True, also yes.

She promised herself that she wouldn't let it take over her life, but it was hard. It was hard to stop herself from crawling into a ball and letting the outside world fade from around her. It was hard being present. But she promised herself she would try. Besides, the Dr said the less she thought about it, the longer she would be around, put simply, and who was she to ignore a doctor's orders?

So, with another sigh, she steeled herself and headed to the entrance.

She stared at the door to Ron's room. The poster of the Chudley Canon player zooming about on his broom seemed to be taunting her with its happiness. She must have been staring for infinity, preparing to face the questions that would be fired at her as soon as she walked in; when George bumped into her.

"Oof- sorry Hermione, I didn't see you there. Oi, where've you been all summer?" He was walking out of a lavatory and turned to take her in.

She took in his lanky frame. Though lanky might not have been the correct term. He was tall sure, but he had definitely filled out since she had last seen him. His shoulders and arms were defined now. He clearly had biceps. And his face had taken on a more defined quality. Even his ginger hairs appeared more refined, less stark. Almost auburn. He was starting to look like a man. She realised had missed George. he was the only one who didn't call her by the awful nickname 'Mione' they had all given her, claiming that 'Hermione' was a mouthful.

"Hey George. Oh, you know me, I've had my nose in a ton of books."

It was a lie, and George knew. She could see it on his face. While the twins were the definition of un-seriousness, every now and then when it was just Hermione and George, she would catch a look of clear intuitiveness on his face. She knew he would not ask any more questions.

"Oh yeah, I don't buy it. But tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum definitely will." He winked back at her.

She felt a tiny smile break through her icy expression. This is why she'd missed him. He understood. "Thanks, George."

He winked again and disappeared down the stairs.

She steeled herself.

Here goes nothing.

September 1st.

Hermione had spent all night with Ron and Harry trying to make up for lost time. Ron gushed about the quiddich game they had all went to the day before. Actually 'the game' was too much of a generalisation. He gushed about a Bulgarian player – Krum or something – that he was apparently a fan of. While he and Harry forced her to relive every detail of the game with them. She didn't mind as it kept her mind off her misery, which she didn't wish to share with her friends currently. She had watched as Ron's hair positively sparked with excitement. While Harry's eyes glowed with awe at the memory of his first quiddich world cup. She loved how her friends' happiness could be so contagious and consuming. But in that moment, all she wanted was to escape. To be alone, hidden from the world. She took in the violent shades of orange splattered around the room and imagined the fire coming alive to consume her whole. A shudder had run through her.

They were currently sitting in a carriage, just the four of them, on the Hogwarts express sharing the things they had purchased from the confectionary cart.

"…and then the keeper took a ball to the – Mione, what's the matter?"

She had winced involuntarily at the headache that had been building behind her eyes since around five am, and Ron just happened to choose that moment to be vigilant.

"It's nothing, I'm just a bit tired." She really wished he would just go back to his story about the Chudley Canon's latest victory...

"Are you sure?" Ron pushed. She watched as harry dragged his messy raven hair from his face, to get a clearer look at her and immediately felt suffocated. She didn't want the attention.

She stood up, "Actually, I think I'll just go get some air." Before anyone could remark she was out of the sliding door and walking away from it fast as she could. She missed the looks of bewilderment that crossed their faces.

"Blimey, what's going on with her?" Ron's comment was left to dissipate into nothing, in the cool atmosphere Hermione had left behind.

After a few moments she came to a stop outside of a window and began a slightly unnerving argument with herself.

You know you'll have to tell them sooner or later, right?

Her head had now begun to throb as her own voice reverberated around her head.

And until then I shall continue to live in denial. Those were the doctor's orders, right?

You're changing and you know it…

Everyone fucking changes so why can't I.

FUCK!

The pain in her head had rapidly increased, so much so that it was getting hard to see.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK "FUCK!" The pain began to dull slightly.

"Never thought I'd hear that word from the golden girl's mouth." She could barely recognise the voice through the pain, but the scathing tone and condescending nickname did the trick.

"Go away, Malfoy"

I need to sit. Or lay.

"That's it? No scornful adjectives? Hateful curses? Are you alright?" she could tell he had his trademark smirk on, but she couldn't possibly care less.

"Go away, Malfoy." she sounded drained.

Get used to it, you're going to sound like this a lot in the not so far future.

"You could at least look at me when addressing me. How very mudblood-esque of you." he was getting frustrated by her lack of response now, aiming below the belt to get a rise out of her. But she didn't think she had anything to give.

She reached behind her to feel for a wall. Once she found it, she found it she backed into the wall, using it to slide down to the floor with her knees bent so she wasn't in anyone's way. Lest she give anyone else a reason to communicate with her.

"Why are you here sulking in hallway? What, did the weasel finally break your heart?" he carried on pushing.

She dragged her left hand across her face, trying to spread the pain across the surface so it would hurt less. "Why do you care, Malfoy?"

"Becau-"

"Draco! Stop wasting your time with the mudblood. Blaise bought a feast of snacks from the cart." she couldn't recognise the simpering voice that interrupted him, again, because of the pain. But if she was to guess she would say Pansy.

A few seconds passed before she heard two sets of footsteps retreating. She guessed he was offering her a distasteful sneer, but she did not care. She didn't care about much lately. Yet in this moment, she was eternally grateful to pansy for making the noise stop.

Ages must have passed until she finally felt the pain begin to desist. Then a few more minutes and her mind was fully clear again. Her once beautiful mind. Her most prized possession tainted by this...

"No." she told herself she wouldn't dwell.

She considered going back to the carriage her friends were in, but she imagined her headache would return full force. So that was out of the question. It was better to hide.

She got up from the ground to find an empty carriage. Once inside she charmed it, so it would look like no one was inside and placed a repellent charm on the door for good measure.

Peace at last.

She lay across the seat, adjusting her skirt to maintain her modesty. The golden trio had taken to changing into their uniform at the burrow, to avoid the queues to the bathroom that came with changing on the train.

Now she was finally alone she thought back to her brief encounter with Malfoy. She placed her forehead against the cool glass of the window and considered his persistency. She wondered why he had been so adamant on talking to her. She was very unresponsive which he should have liked, seeing as he thought she was the dirt beneath his feet. But he had been insistent, and she was sure he would have continued pressing if pansy, or whoever it was hadn't interrupted him. In hindsight, his usually scornful drawl had had a lazy edge to it. Almost as though his heart wasn't in it.

An image of his face formed in her mind. It might have been easier to determine his intentions if she had looked at him at the time. She visualised his shoulders drawn back aristocratically. His head positioned in such a way that he had no choice but to look down at her. His distinguished nose disdainfully sniffing at the air she dared to contaminate. His eyebrows raised in a condescending smirk that tugged at the left corner of his mouth.

Her mind drifted to thoughts of how his features might look when they weren't tainted with contempt for her. She dared to imagine how he would smile down on her if her cared for her. How his rosy lips would curve softly, revealing a perfect set of teeth behind them. She imagined him playfully touching her, caressing her. His fingers faintly dancing to a tune only he could hear. He might replace them with his lips, the faintest of pressure on her rib. But he would decide that her clothes formed too much of a barrier, then his fingers would get back to work. Unbuttoning her ivory Hogwarts shirt. Revealing the Gryffindor red of her lace bra. He might laugh then, at her predictability. A laugh that would light up his eyes. Turning them from hard rods of steel, to endless pools of silver.

The carriage seemed to fog up with her fantasy, as she pictured how he might replace his hands with his mouth again – now he could feel her skin. A sigh left her lips as she imagined the soft kisses he might pepper across her not inconsiderable cleavage. Then he might have employed team work, to release one of her breasts from the confines of her bra. Taking a rosy nipple between his lips with a small tug.

Her eyes snapped open as she realised where her mind had gone. She wondered what it said, that the usual blush did not rise across her face.

I've been day-dreaming – fantasising – about Malfoy.

She was shocked because… she wanted to continue. She imagined he would be great at that scenario, if the rumours she heard had any semblance of truth to them.

"We have now arrived at Hogsmeade, for Hogwarts school of Witchcraft a Wizardry. Students may now begin to deboard the train."

The magically enhanced voice spurred her to get a move on. As she prepared herself to begin the academic year, she decided the prospect of teaching Draco Malfoy that she was a human wasn't so bad.

It would be a good way to stop myself from dwelling. She convinced herself.

So, what do ya think?