AN: So I've updated yet again. That's right, I'm spending the time I should be using to do my homework (I'm taking AP Chem, AP Calculus and AP Physics- along with two other AP classes- all in the same year, pray for me...) writing chapters for this instead. Why do I do this? Because I love you, I think. All four of you that gave me reviews.

And now, a threat. If you don't review, I may just decide to leave the story unfinished. Whether you think I'm the next JKR, or if you're convinced that I should disappear, never to write again- is up to you. But review anyway, and let me know what works and what doesn't.

I still own nothing you've ever found in a Harry Potter book. and since it takes too much time and energy for me to type that over and over again, I won't. You already know I don't own anything, so there.

And now... Chapter 2.

Immortal Blessings

Chapter 2: I Knew You Weren't Telling Me Something, But...

At 7:00 A.M., Hermione woke up with a start.

September first was here. The day had finally arrived. She was about to return to Hogwarts for the last time.

She went into her bathroom to take the longest shower in the universe (she had always been accustomed to long, hot showers). Nearly an hour later, she was back in her bedroom, wrapped in a towel, about to get dressed.

As was her tradition, she chose her favorite pair of jeans to wear on the train ride, along with a black tank top. The jeans not only fit her perfectly, but they had more than the usual sentimental value. They had somehow been on her for just about everything she had ever been through, and they showed it. A dark blue when she had bought them, they had gradually faded to the perfect shade, and were the most comfortable pair she owned. It was almost like buying a vintage pair of jeans, but this had been ripped, shredded and faded on their own accord, which made them so much better.

That, and she felt happiest wearing something she knew she looked great in.

Hermione left her hair down after combing it out a bit, instead of straightening her curls into absolute oblivion. The arsenal of makeup she owned- thanks to her mother, who had tried everything possible over the last six years to make Hermione look remotely like a girl- was in her trunk, much against her better judgment.

Not that wearing makeup really made a difference at the time. Even with her truly beaten up jeans, a simple tank top, and curls flying free, she still looked almost as if she had stepped straight out of a magazine.

Dragging her trunk and a backpack downstairs and into the front hall, Hermione returned to the dining room to find a complete breakfast at her place at the table. A covered plate with bacon, sausage, two fried eggs, and four hot chocolate chip pancakes in strawberry syrup- always her favorite- lay next to a bowl of fruit salad- strawberries, sliced pineapple, chunks of watermelon, and a few pieces of banana scattered throughout. Two tall glasses- one with chocolate milk, the other with orange juice- completed the spectacle that was to be her breakfast.

This had to be from her parents. Only they- and Harry and Ron, of course- knew her that well. Her parents had been invited to some convention for dentists in Italy, and had left just a few hours before her descent down the stairs. She knew it had hurt them to know that they were to miss Hermione's first day of seventh year, and they had been searching for a way to make it up to her. This was absolutely perfect.

A note next to this fantastic display read,

Our dearest Hermione,

Your father and I were talking about what we would do for your first day of your seventh year, since our flight to Italy for the European Dentists' Convention was so early in the morning. As you know, we tried everything to change it, but all other flights were booked.

In an attempt to make this up to you, we settled on giving you something that won't really last too long, but that we thought you'd love very much. I, personally, have never been able to figure out how you can eat chocolate chip pancakes with strawberry syrup, but to each their own, and it always has been your favorite. We figured that you should start your year off well- not that you already haven't, what with your becoming Head Girl and all..

Remember that we're more proud of you than you could ever know. While you're at it, Hermione, it's only eight-thirty in the morning. You still have some time to relax. (You've gotten up far too early every first day since your first year at school, and we have the feeling today won't be any different. Are we right?)

Love, hugs and good luck over the next year,

Mom and Dad

Hermione looked at the microwave in the kitchen. Sure enough, she didn't have to be at King's Cross for at least another two hours. She laughed to herself at how predictable she could be at times, and settled down to have the best breakfast she'd eaten in a long time.

Draco lazily awoke from slumber at 8:45, to see that the house-elves, the same ones who had served under him and his family his entire life- had already prepared breakfast for him and set it next to his bed. The fact that they still did things like that for him even after he, like his father, had abused them- was a miracle to him. His treatment of his house-elves had greatly improved after escaping the confines of his father, though.

After a quick shower in his bathroom (one of the largest rooms in the house, with both a shower and an extremely large bathtub), Draco pulled on a pair of black jeans with a black T-shirt. No matter who he was or what side he was on, black would always be the color for him. His white-blond hair and pale skin (which had tanned slightly after hours of Quidditch practice) with the black clothing made him look more powerful, like an angel trapped in a world of darkness. Which, in a way, was what he was.

Draco soon found himself standing in front of a full-length mirror, staring at himself for what seemed like an eternity. Who was he? He had spent years being king of the Slytherins, the perfect picture of arrogance and evil, not to mention being the Sex God of Hogwarts- at least, in people's minds he was. In truth, he had only had sex once, and that hadn't even been with a girl at school. His mind drifted back to yet another painful memory, of the summer before his fifth year.

"Listen, boy, you can't even begin to be a true Death Eater unless you can torture and kill without remorse. If you fail in doing so, then all my years of training you have been wasted. If you do not succeed, then I will have been right to begin with- you really are worth nothing."

Lucius Malfoy turned to the corner of one of the first Malfoy Manor's many dungeons, where a Muggle girl was cursed into an invisible cell. All could enter and leave freely except for her. The young girl could not see out, but everyone else could look inside. She looked as if she hadn't even reached her thirteenth birthday.

Lucius entered the cell, and she became abruptly aware of his presence. Before she could even attempt to do anything, the elder Malfoy calmly raised his wand and said, "Crucio."

The girl's screams became louder and more drawn out over time, but she defiantly remained standing. Draco began feeling sick to his stomach. He had never been shown another person under the Cruciatus Curse- his father usually performed it on him instead, to toughen him up, to make him immune to pain.

The spell was finally lifted, and the girl quickly collapsed. It was obvious that she was fighting a losing battle. Lucius then raised his wand again, in the same manner as before, and said, "Imperio."

"Get up," Lucius commanded. The girl followed the order.

"Remove your clothing," he ordered. Too weak to resist the power of the Imperius Curse, she did so, with fear still very evident in her eyes.

"Get back on the ground," Lucius snarled, as he, too, began to strip.

Draco stood there, frozen, his face a stoic mask, as his own father brutally raped the Muggle girl. He had no idea what his father expected him to do next, but he had the feeling it would be nothing good.

Lucius finished,got dressed, and stood. He turned to face his son.

"Now, Draco, it's your turn with this piece of filth. Finish her off, while you're at it."

The memory never escaped his mind, not for a day. However, he had his own ways of releasing the pain, ways that did not serve to destroy him, unlike so many fellow students at Hogwarts.

He thought back to the CDs in his trunk, along with both an acoustic and an electric guitar. No one but the house-elves knew about these, as his parents would have most definitely killed him if they had known that he owned anything related to Muggles. Not a soul knew about his singing, his songwriting, about his love for music.

No one knew the real him.

"Master Draco, it is time for you to leave for the station," said a small house-elf at the door to his room. He thanked the house-elf, who quickly left.

It was ten-thirty. He was to leave. He was to start over.

If anyone would give him a chance.

Taking a deep breath and holding on to his trunk, Draco Disapparated.

The taxi carrying Hermione and her things stopped in front of King's Cross. As she got out, the driver removed her trunk and set it on the sidewalk. "Thank you, and have a great day," Hermione said to the taxi driver as she paid him. She walked over to the barrier between platforms nine and ten, inconspicuously slid through, and was welcomed once more to platform nine and three-quarters.

It was ten-thirty, and the platform was full of activity. Hermione could see a few children clinging on to their parents as if they were still umbilically attached- these were definitely some of the first years. Ironically enough, a few feet away there was a small cluster of parents laughing and chatting with one another, yet they all kept sneaking nervous glances at the train. Separation anxiety, probably, Hermione thought.

She stepped onto the Hogwarts Express and scanned each compartment as she passed by, searching for her friends. She found Ginny already wildly gossiping with a few sixth-year girl friends, and stopped to talk with her for a while. She and Neville had finally stopped beating around the bush and had started going out at the end of the last school year (Neville had finally begun to show signs of puberty, and had shown them quite well- girls were practically lining up to go out with him).

"Harry and Ron are in the last compartment. They told me to let you know that if I saw you looking for them," Ginny said.

"Thanks. I'll just go talk to them for a little, before I have to go to the first prefects' meeting," said Hermione, as she left the compartment and continued her walk down the train.

She entered the last compartment to find that Harry and Ron were not alone.

Harry and the girl he was- well, having fun with- broke apart quickly when they realized they had a new visitor. Ron, who had been yelling "Why do you two have to do this every single time you're in a room togeth-" abruptly stopped when he noticed Hermione's presence.

"I knew there was something you weren't telling me, but I never thought it could have been this, Harry," Hermione said with definite amusement. Harry blushed a deep shade of crimson, while the girl next to him appeared more than just slightly awkward.

"Um, er.....hi, Hermione," said Harry, with a trace of embarrassment. He had grown to be one of the most wanted guys in the school, as had Ron. Both were much taller than Hermione- at five feet seven inches, she was still no match for Harry's six feet and Ron's six foot three.

"Yeah, hi, Hermione," Ron echoed. "You look great."

"You two don't look too bad either," replied Hermione with a smile. She turned to the girl and said, "And since these two can't seem to remember how to introduce anyone...I'm Hermione Granger."

She received a smile in return from the girl, who said, "Natasha Ross. I'm a Ravenclaw seventh year, and Harry's told me everything about you- everything that I haven't already heard at school, at least. It's great to finally meet you."

Natasha was a small girl, at least four inches shorter than Hermione. She seemed a little like the Muggle image of a fairy, with long, flowing dark hair and dark blue eyes. In fact, she looked more like a ballerina than anything else. Hermione instantly liked her- she seemed like an upbeat person, and she and Harry appeared to make a great couple anyway.

"Thanks," Hermione replied, feeling slightly flattered.

"So, Hermione, found out who the Head Boy is yet?" Ron asked.

"Actually, no. I was just coming down here to see how you were doing before I have to go to the prefects' meeting," answered Hermione.

"We have a meeting?"

Apparently, Ron hadn't changed on the inside at all. Even being made Prefect hadn't appeared to have made him any more responsible than before.

"Come on, let's go. We'll leave you two alone. I'll talk to you later, Harry," Hermione said as she and Ron left the compartment to make their way up to the prefect carriage.

The carriage was slightly more luxurious than the regular compartments- though most rumors stated that it was nothing compared to the Head compartment. Large, comfortable sofas lined the walls. When Ron and Hermione went inside, most of the prefects were already present. A quick scan of all the boys showed no Head Badge.

"You don't think Malfoy made Head Boy, do you?" asked Ron.

"I don't see why not, now that I think about it. After all, he does have some of the best marks in the school-" Hermione started.

"But he's Malfoy! Come on, Dumbledore wouldn't do something that stupid, would he?!"

"He joined our side almost a year before Voldemort's fall, Ron! If we can't trust him now, then we'll never be able to! Look at everything he'd ever said or done to me, and how I've managed to forgeve him for it- haven't you been able to at least put some of it all behind you?"

"I'm sorry, but his family-"

"He's not his father, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, exasperated.

A new voice broke in with, "That's right, I'm not my father at all. Last time I checked, he was busy rotting in hell. Since I'm here talking to you two, and I can't be in two places at once, I guess we've ruled out that one, haven't we?"

The look on Draco's face- some anger mixed with astonishment, all barely showing through the calm Malfoy mask- made it very clear that he had heard everything. And the Head Boy badge in his hand answered Ron'e original question.

"So, now that we have that all straightened out, why don't we get started with this meeting?" Draco asked.

End of Chapter 2. I'm working on 3, but at the moment I have... a single paragraph. Don't worry, I know what'll happen.

We'll have...

the rest of the train ride

the arrival at Hogwarts

the Sorting

and Draco and Hermione find their new rooms...

and while i'm at it, other stuff might happen.

For a while, I thought this was going too slowly, but then I had an OotP flashback, where they didn't even get to the train until chapter ten anyway. However, if you think so, then go ahead and let me know.

and off to learn about derivatives and tangent lines I go.

In the words of a bad rapper but a god entrepreneur.....Review, or die.

-Keri