Chapter Two- Arriving at Hogwarts

Note: I do not own anything at all of Harry Potter or anything related to the story- all of which written by J K Rowling. She is a fantastic author and everyone can only aspire to be as amazing a storyteller as her!


"I do NOT like Draco Malfoy!" Hermione whispered to herself fiercely. She sat up and stroked where he had touched her, trying to blot away the memory but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't get rid of the thought of his eyes and the look he had given her. Remembering she was supposed to be looking for Harry, she stood up and continued running through the compartments.

Finally she stopped in one of the further compartments and noticed him sitting by himself, his knees pulled into his chest and his back hunched. He looked up when he saw her, all his fury forgotten.

"Hermione, I… I'm sorry," he mumbled, but she hushed him.

"It's okay, you don't have to say anything. Come here." She pulled him close and hugged him tightly, stroking his face comfortingly, and feeling his warm tears splash against her hand. He never usually cried and it pained her to see him like this, but she had to be there for her best friend. It was stupid for Draco to imply that she would be anything to him other than a friend- because there was no attraction. They were more like brother and sister than anything else, and right now he needed her like no sibling ever would. The pain of grief for him was unbearable, though for him Hermione would do anything.

"I just… I can't… I can't forget Sirius. I don't want to forget him. But it hurts so much, like a hole through my heart. I have lost my parents, and he was the closest I have to a father." Harry's voice was thick with grief, and began to sob quietly again, with the air of a desperate man with no hope left. Only this time his tears were mingled with Hermione's.

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A few hours later, the whole school sat seated in the magnificent Great Hall. It was decorated in festoons of colour and lit with glowing candles, and and as usual the ceiling reflected the inky clouds of outside. The four House tables were crowded with expectant students, all waiting eagerly for the time when the food would arrive. Ron, Hermione and Harry sat at the Gryffindor table chatting idly and conversing with their other housemates, most of whom they hadn't seen over the summer.

Ron was peering at the head table, where sat the familiar sights of Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and all the other Professors, only in the Defense Against The Dark Arts spot sat someone new. She was very familiar to them, with white snowy hair and striking, handsome features that belonged to none other than part-Veela Fleur Delacour. The last time they had seen her, she was a combatant in the TriWizard Tournament, competing for the Beauxbatons school when Harry was in his fourth year.

"It's Fleur," Ron said, his mouth dropping. "Oi... nobody told me she was going to be teaching here! And considering my family... cor, isn't she a looker though, Harry?"

"Isn't she going out with your brother, Ron?" Hermione reminded him meaningfully. "I don't think Bill would approve of you eyeing up his girlfriend."

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," Ron laughed, and even Hermione had to smile at Ron's mischievous humour.

"So I guess she's the new DADA teacher then?" Harry said thoughtfully. "I wonder if she'll be good."

"Well she can't be any worse than Umbridge can she?" Ron said.

"I don't think it's possible to be worse than Umbridge," Hermione said, though looking at Fleur shrewdly. She had never much liked her, but was prepared to put past grudges behind her for the sake of education. "She must be a qualified teacher for Dumbledore to take her on... still, we need really good quality professing for us to do well in our exams."

"Hermione, Malfoy's staring at you," Harry said, giving her a poke in the ribs. "What's with him? He's not his usual cocky self. If he wasn't so pathetic, I'd actually be bothered by his attitude."

"Don't know," she answered distractedly. "Look, Dumbledore's going to speak." Glad of the interruption, they turned to the front where the old, beaming professor stood.

"Welcome to yet another year," he said, gazing around with a kindly expression. "I hope all the new years that have just been Sorted will have a good and fulfilling time here. I expect you're all hungry from your long train ride, so I won't delay you much longer! Eat!" He clapped his hands and every delight possible appeared on the tables, and soon everyone was gorging on the delicious steaming food. The mountains of potatoes and every possible meat, steamed vegetables and the wafting scent of piping hot gravy was enough for Harry to put thoughts of resentment for Dumbledore to the back of his mind... that summer he had spent a long time discussing things with the Headmaster, and it was decided that there was a truce, and all the Sirius arguments forgotten. Nothing could make Harry EVER forget him though.

In her hunger, Malfoy was completely driven out of Hermione's thoughts, and instead she tucked into Yorkshire puddings with stew and dumplings with as much fervour as she could muster.

Hours later, their stomachs full to bursting with good food, the three friends made their way up the stairs to the Common Room, rubbing their eyes with exhaustion. All of a sudden they were distracted by a snigger, and they looked up wearily to see Malfoy and his cronies.

"Well if it isn't Potty and the Weasel," Draco said, relishing his old quote. "And we have a Mudblood thrown in too. What a surprise."

"Oh shut the hell up, you slimy git," Ron shouted, already inflamed by the old insult. "Why don't you go get a life?"

"Forget him," Harry said firmly, placing an arm on his friend and motioning to continue upstairs.

"In a rush?" Pansy came up behind Draco and draped her arms around his shoulders, kissing him on the cheek and sneering at all three of them. "Still in a rage Potty? Have you fallen out with Girlfriend Granger?"

Hermione wasn't listening; just staring at Pansy kissing Draco and feeling her stomach twist itself into a strange knot. All the emotions of the day welled up inside her and she just felt like she couldn't cope anymore, though she couldn't actually explain to herself why... Malfoy wasn't responding to his girlfriend, and only staring at Hermione with no trace of resentment whatsoever. She could feel hot tears rolling down her cheeks, and couldn't suppress them no matter how she tried; tugging at her face with the sleeve of her robe, she broke down further. Why am I crying? she thought wildly. WHY? Knowing only that she couldn't cope anymore with her mixed feelings, she turned to run.

"Hermione, what's wrong? Ron asked, looking concerned. The battle between him and his old enemy had been forgotten in the sudden confusion of why Hermione- the secret adoration of his life- was distressed.

She didn't even answer, only fled, not trusting herself to look back and give away the shame of her tears. And she didn't stop running until she was well out of sight, not understanding anything except her urgent need to be away from that male who caused so much despair. It wasn't enough for him to torment her life, but to see him with that girl! She didn't understand what came over her.

"Leave her," Harry whispered to Ron, not understanding anything but empathising with the need to be alone. He too had spent many months alone at the Dursleys in his bedroom, and recognised her shame at crying. Just as he grabbed Ron and continued up the steps, he noticed something that caused him to stop in his tracks and his jaw to drop in wonder. The look on Malfoy's face wasn't smirking, condescending or cruel- it was a look of real regret.

Through regret of what, Harry didn't know just yet.