Soul Mates

Hermione abruptly stopped chatting merrily away to her fellow class-mates, in order to focus her attention towards the Headmaster, whom had prominently stood up to conduct his usual Start of Academic Year announcements.

"Welcome, students, welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore's pleasant voice rang across the room, "this year, unlike many others, shall commence in a new era. A peaceful era. I trust most of you have been keeping up with the latest tidings: Voldemort perishing due to being a recipient of a Dementor's Kiss and our brilliant devoted Aurors catching all the Death Eaters. Good, as always, has finally prevailed!"

Hermione was amongst the many whom had stood up from their seat in attempt to cheer the most enthusiastically.

What nobody from the blissful lot realized was that someone was standing in a secluded corner right outside the Great Hall, watching the events, including the announcements, with a sinister expression.

That someone was battling with remorse at his return to Hogwarts.

Draco Malfoy's parents were both locked up in Azkaban. The last he'd heard, Lucius had died. Yet he would never know for certain, as he has no form of communication with either of them whatsoever. He wasn't even permitted to write! No, the new Minister of Magic had prohibited it.

The scene in which Narcrissa was being dragged off by Azkaban guards haunted Draco so much that he was quite nutrition and sleep deprived.

"Don't stop attending school son," she yelled, giving him final instructions as the hems of her robes were roughly tugged at to drag her to a Portkey which would lead to her destination, whilst he was helplessly and defenselessly held back during his failed attempts to combat the situation. "Get good grades! Become such a Great Wizard, so great that you can avenge me! Avenge your father and I!"

His Mother's will was the only motivation of his return. If that had not been the case, he most certainly would have fled someplace far away where he could securely scheme their escape. All he could and did do was offer the extremely immense and impressive amount of the Malfoy fortune and legacy he inherited to the Wizarding Authority, in order to bail his parents out. Even that though wasn't enough to exchange their freedom with. The wretched Wizarding Authority's stubbornness planted all the conviction in Draco which he needed to oblige his Mother's wish.

His gaze drifted off and fixed at Harry Pothead.

It's your entire fault, he thought bitterly as Harry animatedly chatted to Hermione and Ron completely carefree, it's all your fault that I am practically an orphan just like the pathetic likes of you. It's your fault and your friends' as well. If it weren't for your so-called heroic contribution to the bloody Order…

What happened next was inevitable: Draco's heart throbbed so vigorously that he clutched his chest and collapsed onto the floor in agonized pain. He was about to die. He knew it. And no one would notice quickly enough to save him; even Crabbe and Goyle weren't there. They were imprisoned at Juvenile Delinquent Azkaban, along with another thirty or so Slytherins that were meant to be present amongst the other students this evening.

I shall join you now, Father.

He thought he heard some footsteps and a sharp intake of breath.

Angels coming to retrieve my soul, no doubt... What's taking them so long!

"Someone HELP!" A girl's voice shrieked. "Malfoy's in trouble."

The girl's head rested on his chest. Her hair smelt wonderful. Of vanilla. He ravenously breathed it in… it was so soothing and sensational.

"I can hear a heartbeat!" The girl called. "But someone come quickly, anyway!"

Draco, feeling much better, stood up abruptly.

He felt his heart turn back to ice.

"Granger," he said quite coldly, upon realizing whom his savior was. Just the person he needed to witness his moment of weakness. Not.

Consequently, Hermione wasn't at all satisfied at this 'gratitude' she was payed.

"Well, I definitely regret coming to your aid, that's for sure." She remarked indignantly, while standing up. "What with that awful tone you're addressing me with. But then again, what was I to expect from Draco Malfoy?"

"What do you think you were you doing, coming out before the Feast had barely even started," Draco's voice sounded crueler than intended, his self-control sabotaged by humiliation, "and not leaving me lying there?"

"Well I beg your pardon," She said equally as harshly, with a little surprise at his attitude, "if I like many similar to me, someone with a heart, couldn't resist helping those who could be dieing right before my eyes. Those whom seem to be isolated tonight, nevertheless. As for what I was doing coming out here, I fail to see what would make you think I would answer that as if it's of any remote business of yours."

"But wait- what am I doing, justifying myself to you?" She said as an immediate afterthought "I'll unfortunately be seeing you around, Malfoy!"

"It won't be a surprise to you, I presume," he heard his voice reply, like a reflex trying to fulfill his composure "to hear that I am not looking forward to it? You had your disgustingly dirty flesh all over my new robes, Mudblood!"

Hermione spun around at that last comment, and unexpectedly eyed him with a mixture of disgust, despair and bewilderment. She then shrugged indifferently though and proceeded on her way to the Women's Ground-Floor Lavatories.

Draco angrily eyed her as she did so. Why had she, of all people… saved his life? It was her vanilla scented hair which he ravenously inhaled that had given him the resilience he needed to revive. There was no question to it. He bitterly remembered her expression after his typical cruel words. He would rather have been retorted to with a slap or another insult.

He angrily slammed his fist onto a nearby wall. Must she activate my guilty conscience?

Clearly his body had finally begun exhibiting affects caused by lack of food when he had somewhat fainted. When Draco realized that, he yielded to the appealing smell of the Feast so he decided upon assisting in its consumption.

While he piled Greek Salad onto his plate, in spite of his will, his thoughts reverted to the image of Hermione walking away from him. She had most certainly physically matured, much more favorably than ever. Her hair was still wispy, yet it was under control and flowed all the way down to her waist. It also grew lighter in color the further down it went, so that it started off as brown and ended as a naturally shimmering blonde.

Who ever thought that so filthy a mudblood would appear so attractive?

Suddenly, out of the blue, he heard Hermione's voice.

"I never knew that you could feel that warm, by the way," her voice casually informed him "Because well, you know that you definitely are the coldest creature, physically and psychologically, imaginable- don't you? I save you and all you could do is rub in my so-called 'inferior' blood heritage!"

Draco immediately spun around. She was nowhere in sight! He realized in alarm. Wasn't she still in the lavatories?

Please don't tell me that the Summer-break's events had finally gotten to my sanity, resulting in my hearing non-existent voices…

People eyed Draco with suspicion and surprise. He saw Weasley say something that made Scarface laugh.

It couldn't be! He wasn't insane. Granger must have cursed him. She was certainly brainy enough to do that; he couldn't deny her that at least. It was out of character of her not to reply to his comment after all. Instead, she must have hexed him to hear her stupid voice as revenge!

Should I confront her? Or risk her 'discovering' my possible insanity?

He watched her reenter the Great Hall and pondered upon this ultimatum…

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