Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowling, and those corporate entities which have paid her good money for the rights they hold. This is a work of fanfiction, written for personal enjoyment, as a tribute to the fantastic universe that Ms. Rowling has created, and for no monetary gain whatsoever.

A/N (Jan 2006): This chapter has been re-edited to correct punctuation and grammar errors.

Metamorphosis: Chapter Two

by RowanRhys

Friday, December 20, 1996

Hermione paused in the stair hall as the other students who were heading home for the holiday rushed toward the carriages that would take them to the Hogsmeade station.

She grinned at Harry, Ron and Ginny. "Don't look so down," she told them. "You three get to be together this Christmas. I have to put up with well-meaning aunts and uncles asking inconvenient questions about my 'exclusive boarding school', and my dad and grandfather arguing over their favorite rugby teams! But Mum really wants me home, especially after last year."

"Be careful, Hermione," Harry whispered in her ear as he gave her a hug. Louder he said, "Happy Christmas!"

Ron flushed as he hugged her, mumbling his holiday wish, and pressing a small package into her hand. "Don't open it until Christmas!"

Ginny giggled and handed her an envelope. "Happy Christmas, Hermione. Tell your mother that my Mum loves the cookie recipes she sent."

"Well, it's not like Mum can do them anymore since she was found to be diabetic. Someone ought to get some use out of them since I simply can't cook to save my life!"

A voice from outside bellowed, "Everyone for the Express, load up now!" and she gave her friends one last smile before rushing out to the nearest of the waiting carriages. As she climbed in, grateful for her warm cloak and Gryffindor scarf in the freezing weather, she found, to her dismay, that the other passengers were Draco Malfoy, his new shadow Blaise Zabini, and the silent hulks, Crabbe and Goyle. It was too late to switch coaches, so she settled herself into the only open seat, to Malfoy's left.

"Surprised you aren't staying with Potty and the Weasel, Mudblood," Draco drawled. "Aren't you afraid of the trouble they'll get into without you to keep them out of it?"

"I'd think you'd rather they got in trouble, Malfoy," she told him disdainfully, and looked out the coach window at the snow-covered scenery outside, turning her shoulder towards him.

The moment the coaches stopped at Hogsmeade station, she opened the door and jumped out, eager to get away from the Slytherins as soon as she could. Finding her trunk and Crookshanks' basket had made their way down from the Castle as usual; she selected an empty compartment and climbed in, not noticing that the Slytherins were carefully noting which one it was.

The Hogwarts Express rocked gently as it steamed south toward London. Draco sat quietly in his compartment, staring out at the passing scenery, trying to ignore the noises that Crabbe and Goyle were making as they ate the pile of sweets they'd gotten from the trolley. He was also trying to keep from meeting Zabini's eye, not wanting to go to Granger's compartment in the second car down from theirs, not wanting to be forced to be part of whatever Deatheater plot his father had come up with.

He felt someone nudge his foot and looked up to see Blaise glaring at him. Zabini gave a quick jerk of the head toward the door and slowly clenched a fist in his lap.

Draco stared at the hand that had caused him so much pain a few days before, and gave in. No wonder I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor. I'm such a damned coward.

He stretched in his seat and grumbled aloud, "I'm getting stiff sitting here. I'm taking a walk." He stood and swayed slightly with the motion of the train and stepped over Vincent's huge feet.

"I'll join you," Blaise said easily. "Boring trip. I don't see why they won't let us portkey home. It would be so much more convenient."

Draco strolled along the corridor, glancing in the various compartments they passed. Most of them had at least three or four children in them, all excited about the holiday, and blissfully unaware of the dark plots and plans afoot in the world.

When they reached their destination, the door to the compartment was open, and Granger was the only one sitting in it.

Why couldn't you have more friends? Draco wished. If there were more people in here, I wouldn't have to do this.

He leaned against the doorframe and smirked. "Hey, Granger, I have to admit that I'm surprised you abandoned your boyfriend for the holidays. Little Ronniekins is going to pine away while you're gone."

He could feel Zabini's bulky form up against his back, a silent reminder to follow his father's orders exactly. "Distract her. Keep her attention on you and not Blaise. And don't even think about failing on this simple assignment." The discreet but firm nudge at the level of his kidneys, right into one of the purpling bruises from his discipline at the Three Broomsticks, reminded him to keep up the act.

Only six more weeks until I'm of age and can legally get out of this, he reminded himself as he move fully into the compartment and sat down directly across from Hermione. Only six more weeks.

She glared at him over the paperback book she had been reading. "I don't recall inviting you to join me, Malfoy."

"I don't need an invitation, Granger." He looked at the book she held defensively before her. "What are you reading? Surely you've got Hogwarts-A History memorized by now?" He reached out and plucked the paperback from her fingers, keeping it open to her place, and examined the cover. "Granger reading a romance novel?"

He laughed out loud before turning it around and looking at the page she'd been reading. He snorted as he scanned the words. "He stood alone at the top of the grand staircase, waiting as the woman he loved glided toward him, a vision in rose and silver--Good gods, Granger. You actually enjoy this fluff?" He looked at the cover once more, smirking at the Regency buck and dimpling lady at his side. Then his eyes caught the author's name. "Anne Elizabeth Granger?"

"She's my aunt--give that back!" She lunged forward, grabbing for the book he held just out of her reach. Just then, the train jerked to an unexpected halt and momentum carried her right into him; landing between his knees with one arm up over his shoulder, the other at his waist, and her face buried in the cashmere sweater right at the level of his belt.

There was a moment of shocked silence then Draco forced the expected taunt from a nearly paralyzed throat as he stared down at her tousled brown hair. "Well, Granger, finally learned your proper place? On your knees at the feet of the pure-blooded?"

He heard Hermione gasp as she realized the compromising position she was in and she nearly gouged his face with her fingernails as she pushed herself up and away from him, only to catch her foot on the hem of her robe, falling back to sit on her heels before him.

"Perhaps you'd like to be--of service?" He drawled, twisting the knife.

She scrambled awkwardly to her feet, barely noticing Zabini's unobtrusive assisting hand at her elbow. "Damn you, Malfoy!" She was literally shaking with rage as she jerked her arm from Blaise's grasp and dropped back into her seat. "Get out before I hex you so badly you'll never have to worry about having an heir to carry on your precious pureblood family line!"

A quick glance at Zabini got him a minute nod, and Draco stood up, just as the train lurched into motion once more.

He stared down at the anger-flushed seventeen-year-old witch for a moment before dropping her book into her lap. "Here's your book, Mudblood. Enjoy it while you can. Real life is nothing like these fairytales."

He stalked from the compartment with his head held high, although he was inwardly quaking. Her threat wasn't an idle one, he knew. She really was the most powerful and skilled witch to come through Hogwarts in a century, even if his father refused to admit it.

Blaise came up next to him grinning as they entered the car where their compartment was located. "Not bad, Draco. You know I would have been glad to stand guard if you wanted to take advantage of her position."

"She's a Mudblood, Blaise." Draco reached for the door handle of the men's loo as he responded.

"So you wash afterwards." Zabini smirked. "Or are you afraid that you'll catch something from her?"

"These days you can't be too careful. I'll be out in a few." Draco locked the panel between them and leaned back against it.

All I did was talk to her. Kept her focused on me. So why do I feel like I've just laid a curse on her? He closed his eyes as guilt rampaged through him. Maybe I should have stayed... if she'd hexed me badly enough, I could spend Christmas in St. Mungo's and forget all about this.

He bent over the tiny sink and ran some cold water into it to splash on his face. If he could have, he'd have applied some to another bit of his anatomy that remembered how soft she felt pressed up against him when the train had stopped. Cut it out! It's Granger!

He found Zabini waiting for him in the corridor and snapped at him, irritated. "Do you really think I need a babysitter to walk the fifteen feet to our compartment? I'm not an infant, you know."

He pushed past the bigger youth and threw himself into his seat after stepping over Vincent's feet again. Even when Blaise sat down opposite him, Draco kept his eyes on the window, watching the trees and fields flash by, until, half-hypnotized by the streaky blur, his grey eyes closed and he slept.

TBC