Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. I just own the plot.

A/N: I think I messed up on the last chapter with the dates. I think they are the class of 1997-98 instead of 1996-97. 1991-92 was their first year…so…if my calculations are correct, then 1997-98 should be the graduating year. But then again, I suck at math so don't think I'm completely stupid! I'm just partially.

Autumn Rhea and SOBs 4 Sirius 223: Thanks! I hope you like this next chapter!

magicpens: I'm sorry, but this is a story with Draco and Hermione. I know those are really common, but this is kind of different from the 'usual'. It's kind of hard to explain without giving away the whole story.

kriCket x0: Yep, you guessed correctly! ;) However, it's going to have a slight twist in it. And to make sure I don't 'accidentally' blurt it out, my mouth is shut. :x

Gold-Saiyaness: Hey, thanks for the review. I loved the 'constructive criticism' a lot. I think I may just try and describe a bit more. To answer your question, though, no, Draco does not have a crush on Hermione…as for right now that is.

The next morning, Hermione woke up very early. She hadn't been able to sleep that night because she had these unexplainable jitters in her stomach. She always had them the night before classes started. The rest of the Gryffindor girls used to call her crazy, but Hermione always used to swear that she had heard them tossing and turning in their beds as well. Though she'd never pressed the issue, she'd let them press her almost into insanity.

Hermione was very happy about the fact that she had a room all to herself. Had she been in the regular dormitory, she would find herself waking up to a bunch of girls clustered around a mirror sharing eyelash curlers and stories. Oh, those stories. The 'legendary' stories, Hermione called them in her own mind. Stories about which guy looked at who. Stories about which girl said something about someone. Why this was all important, Hermione would never know. She always sat there quietly; hoping that maybe something someone said would click and trigger her to understand what she hadn't been able to for six years. But it never did, and nor did she have the eagerness to ever find out if it would have.

After she had showered, she dressed into her school robes and looked at herself in the mirror. Not admired…oh no. Never 'admired'; always 'looked'. It was more of a final check. Robes tied? Check. Socks on? Check. She never took the time to find out if her robes were tied in a cute little bow or if her socks matched her outfit. As long as her robes were tied and the socks were on, it didn't matter much.

As she was about to leave for breakfast, she realized that she might as well see if Harry was awake. When she knocked on his door, nobody answered. She thought it would be okay if she let herself in. Sure enough, there he was, sprawled across the gigantic bed. Hermione tiptoed to his bedside and tore the blanket off of him. But he didn't move. He didn't slightly acknowledge, even with a small twitch, the fact that he was exposed to the cold, September morning air in only his boxers. She, then, used all the muscle strength she had in her arms to shake him awake.

"What?" Harry said groggily.

"Let's go eat."

"Now?"

"No, tomorrow."

"Then why are you telling me now?"

"I was exag—never mind. Just get up."

"No, I want to sleep."

"Fine, be that way," Hermione said, as she proceeded to leave, even though she knew the reaction to come.

"Whatever, I can't sleep now, can I?" he said, as he got out of bed and went to bathroom to get washed up. Hermione smiled, knowing that was the statement that was going to be made.

"How'd you sleep?" Hermione asked, through the bathroom door.

"Fine, until you came along," he said thickly. Apparently, he was brushing his teeth.

"Ha ha ha, very funny."

Harry chuckled. "I'm just kidding."

"I know. Okay, can you hurry up? I'm so hungry!"

"Okay, okay. Hold your goddamn horses, woman!"

After Harry was showered and dressed, he and Hermione made their way to the Great Hall. All the remnants of last night's activities had been wiped clean. It didn't even seem as if people had spilled their pumpkin juice only eight hours ago on the very floor that had such a lustrous shine to it now. Hermione stared with amusement on her face. To her, this situation was comparable to that of visiting a Quidditch pitch after the World Cup had taken place there a day before. So many words were said, and she even thought she could hear an echo of them bouncing off of the silent walls around her.

They took their seats. The same spot that they always sat at. Always the same spot for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and special occasions. Always the same spot for the last six years. And she could count on it going on seven. Maybe even her future child will be sitting in this very spot with Harry's and Ron's children talking about whatever concerned them at that point.

As they were pouring their bowls of oatmeal, Ron came to join them. "Hey, guys! How'd you get here so early?"

"I blame her," Harry said, pointing to Hermione.

"Why?" Ron asked. It seemed as though he was really asking to be amused.

"Well, Hermione woke up really early so she had the brilliant idea of waking me out of my comfortable bed and forcing me to come down with her," Harry said, jokingly.

Hermione elbowed him. "Did not!" she said, hearing her voice falter a bit. All three of them laughed for a short while. After that, Hermione watched as Harry and Ron talked. She would usually join in on the conversations, but she just wanted to look on today. It was so weird to her. Not too long in the future, all of the seventh years would be parting their lives from those who had known them for a good part of them. Hermione knew, however, that Harry, Ron, and she would remain very close friends, but to her, it just wasn't the same. She had grown used to seeing them in Hogwarts' corridors, and soon, she'd have to get used to seeing them everywhere but.

All a sudden, it was time to go to class. Harry, Ron, and Hermione gathered their schoolbooks and went off.

Their first class happened to be Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Abele. Everyone was looking forward to it, because it was said that she was great, but strict, professor; and it'd been a while since they'd had one of those. However, to meet Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's standards, she would have to be better than Lupin, which to them sounded ludicrous. Lupin, after all, was the best professor they'd had. But at the moment, to everyone, anyone was better than Umbridge. Students shuddered on their way to class just thinking about two years ago when they'd had her.

As soon as everyone had taken their seat, Professor Abele entered, walking very swiftly and with a stern look on her face. "Hello, class," she announced, "My name is Marianne Abele, but you will call me Professor Abele. Today, I am going to tell you how to…" She paused for a moment as if waiting for something. She stared at Malfoy who was sitting lazily in his seat staring off into an unknown space. He seemed to have noticed the quiet and suddenly had a look of realization on his face. As he was trying to sit up straight, he knocked over his ink bottles. Tiny fragments of glass and little drops of dark ink littered the just-polished floor.

"Mr. Malfoy!" she yelled.

"Oh, sorry," he replied, just sitting there.

"Well, aren't you going to clean it up?"

"Why don't you just call a house-elf? It'll be faster and you can get on with your lesson," Malfoy said sweetly.

"You know what? That's a really good idea, Malfoy," Abele said.

Hermione couldn't help but interrupt. "Why call a house-elf when he's perfectly capable of cleaning up the mess himself?" she asked.

"Miss Granger, please do not interr—," she started

"But it would save more time than you think!"

Abele seemed to get pretty angry with this remark. Her dark brown eyes shone maliciously as if they were begging for someone to even dare to explore their depths. "I will run this class how I please, understood?"

"Yes, Professor Abele," she muttered, aware that all Gryffindor eyes were surverying her with anger.

"Haha, stupid mudblood," Malfoy whispered a bit too loud.

"Excuse me?" Abele said, perfectly aware of what he had just said.

"Oh, nothing!" he said, innocently.

"No. I know what I heard. I will NOT tolerate name-calling in my class. You will serve a two hour detention on Friday night. Also, I am taking five points from Slytherin. This is surely not how I wanted to start my first class."

After that, every student went silent for the rest of the class. Miss Abele was a very good teacher, but nobody dared cross a line with her.

"Miss Granger?" Abele said after class, motioning her to come to her desk.

Hermione walked over. "Yes?"

"I understand you're Head Girl, correct?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Would you mind watching over Malfoy's detention on Friday? I'm afraid I'll be too busy grading work."

Hermione gritted her teeth. Though she didn't want to, she couldn't choose not to do it. It wouldn't be fulfilling her head duties.

"Sure."

"Thank you very much."