Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. Except myself… but everything else is not mine

Author's Note: Again, this is an update/edit from the original chapter. Shouldn't be too much changed if you want to skip to the new chapter. Make sure you R/R!

Previously -

"Did you actually think that I wanted to spend more than a second with you in the same compartment? Who are you kidding!" Draco laughed, although he did admit that the older Gryfindor girl had changed quite a bit over the summer. There was something different, something alluring yet silently tragic beneath her eyes. What am I thinking? She's…. a muggle-born. So ugly, so unpure… so perfect.

Hermione noticed his stares for just a split second and let out a groan. This is going to be a long, long year. Shaking her head, she followed the git to the third compartment.

…

When they got near the front of the train, Hermione noticed a door that was slightly larger than the rest, and instead of the usual mahogany colored wood, it was the darkest shade of black she had ever seen. This must be compartment three, she thought to herself. Wonder what's inside? She didn't have to wait long to find out, because Malfoy pushed by her and knocked loudly on the door, receiving a stern look from Hermione before it slid open with a gentle rumble.

Hermione felt like pinching herself when she entered the compartment. She had to walk back out and in again, twice. Somehow, the room nearly tripled in size when she entered the room, and was adorned with various pieces of leather furniture. Smacking herself, she realized the room must be charmed, and she immediately began to enjoy one of the new perks of being Head Girl. And to think that I almost gave this up because of a stupid ferret, she scolded herself.

"This is nothing," Draco arrogantly piped up, noting her excitement and fascination of the charmed room. "My room's easily three times the size. This is tiny compared to what I have." He leaned closer to Hermione, giving her another once-over. "Maybe if I bring you back to the manor sometime, you'd be able to fully enjoy the magnificence the Malfoy household brings," he added with a wink and sly grin.

Hermione scoffed and pushed away from him, "Please, don't give me that. Seriously Malfoy, this is my final year at Hogwarts and I don't want it to be ruined by you. I almost don't want to accept this position just because it means that I have to spend even more of my valuable time with you. If you so much as look at me in the wrong way this year, so help me Merlin, you won't have any magnificence left to enjoy. Where is Professor Dumbledore, anyways? Only a ferret like you would actually believe that we were meeting him before we got to Hogwarts. Seriously, I can't believe they made you Head Boy. This is absolutely ridiculous! How in the world am I supposed to work with you for the next year? I should just quit now and get it over with!" As she was talking she got even more riled up, all the anger from the summer, and the past six years, coming to a boiling point. Her cheeks flushed a dark crimson as all the angry blood rushed to the surface.

"Oh yeah?" asked Draco, giving her an icy look that matched hers almost perfectly.

"Yeah, just try me. I'll do it," she threatened, pulling out her wand. Not to be caught unarmed in a duel with the feisty brunette, Malfoy quickly grabbed his wand and took a defensive stance. A minute passed, neither moving and both Heads were glaring at each other, daring the other to move.

During their argument, both failed to notice the illuminated fireplace, embers burning rampantly. "Ahem," coughed a voice out of nowhere. Both Hermione and Draco looked around, a bit frightened by the idea that they were not alone. They slowly patrolled the room, trying to locate the source of the noise.

"Did you hear anything?" Draco asked, turning to Hermione. They stared at each other, eyes slightly widened, yet neither was willing to admit they were shaken.

"No. And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you anyways!" Hermione responded. The sudden noise had caught her off guard during her verbal battle with Malfoy, and caused her heart to race faster than it had in a while. The sudden burst of adrenaline made her feel shaky, unsettled, and she chose to sit on one of the recliners so she wouldn't black out in front of Malfoy. Oh he would just love it if Miss Perfect suddenly collapsed. He would hold it over my head for the entire year.

Because Hermione was too invested in her own thoughts, she didn't notice Malfoy staring at her, eyeing her carefully. Something just doesn't feel right, he thought to himself. He noted her unsteady balance, the way she carefully cupped the handle of the recliner as she slowly and shakily lowered herself onto it. Draco tried to avert his gaze, ignore her silent struggles that he immediately recognized as a slight panic attack. Part of him wanted to completely ignore her struggle – he was a pureblood after all, and it would be beneath him to help a mere mudblood. Another part of him desperately wanted to run over and help her, walk her through her panic, because he recognized part of himself in her. Deep down he knew he should forget about bloodlines, especially since the war had ended, and he was about to approach her when he realized that would probably only make things worse. I've been her mortal enemy for years – why would she trust me to help her, now? Why do I want to help her so bad? He shuddered, realizing that war or no war, he was sorted into Slytherin for a reason. Even if he wanted to put the past behind them, it would be nearly impossible. Slytherin and Gryffindor go together like oil and water.

She was still struggling, unsuccessfully, to slow her pulse and calm her shaken nerves when she heard the noise again.

"That is exactly the reason I chose both of you to be the Heads this year," stated a voice arising from the fireplace. Hermione whipped around, startled, and Draco slowly turned towards the voice. "There has been enough animosity running throughout Hogwarts for the past few decades. With the complete destruction of the 'Dark Lord', there has been a call for the change of the makeup of Hogwarts. All the houses will stay the same, save Slytherin, who will hopefully begin to show a more optimistic and friendly about everything. I was hoping that by making you two the Head Boy and Girl, it'd help ease the transition and promote more… togetherness between the houses. You two are very smart, yes, very smart indeed, but you need to learn that it isn't always book smarts that will get you places. You both have such amazing characteristics; together you would be an unstoppable force, but first, you must learn to get along. I was hoping that this arrangement would work out; it's been awhile since we've paired sworn enemies together, but after witnessing that heated argument, I'm not sure this will work."

"Oh no, Professor," Hermione butted in, quickly apologizing, "there's really nothing to worry about. I let my emotions get the best of me. It won't happen again. I'm really very sorry."

"No need to apologize, Miss Granger. Emotions are a wonderful thing. You just need to learn when to channel them and when to express them to their fullest. And Mr. Malfoy, that goes for you, too. You two, Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, have quite a bit in common – more so than you would ever know. If only you gave each other a chance…" With that, Dumbledore's head gave a quick wink and disappeared with a poof, leaving Hermione and Draco to just sit there in an awkward silence.

Suddenly, Draco turned to stand up and walked over to the leather recliner where Hermione was sitting. He was still confused on how he felt of the whole situation, being paired with the feisty girl, so he didn't know whether to be playful or the same as always. The icy glare she gave him told him to lean towards the latter, although he wasn't too sure of this choice. He leaned slowly down to her ear and whispered softly into it, "Dumbledore might have a point, but don't get too excited. I know you want all of this, but trust me, it's never going to be yours. Mudblood."

Blood rushed to Hermione's face as she tried to ignore what he had just said. Her anger didn't dissipate as quickly as she hoped, and she snapped, "Never ever call me that name again. My name is Hermione, get it right or deal with the consequences. And don't worry about me coming on to you; not in a million years would I end up with a slimy git like you." She spoke completely through gritted teeth and kept her fists clenched in anger; preferably there instead of on a certain platinum blonde's neck.

Draco just scoffed in response, mentally noting that she was not one to be crossed with this year, and started to take off for his compartment full of flunkies and promiscuous women. He felt slightly bad for hurting her, but while Dumbledore had been speaking he decided it would be probably be easier to be enemies than admit his new feelings towards the girl. He knew Dumbledore was right – he could see they had similar personalities and vices, but although he was interested in finding out her secret, he knew he had to keep her at a distance from him. Never let anyone get close. That way, I never can get hurt. Before passing through the threshold of the compartment, he turned his head and examined the girl one last time. She looks so sad.

Hermione wanted to go find her friends, but was still a bit in awe at the benefits that being Head allowed. She had never been in a room that big on the train before. She knew there would be lots questions and catching up later, and since she had just calmed down from her earlier attack, she just wanted a little peace and quiet. It was the first time since the beginning of the summer that she didn't have to worry constantly or sneak glances over her shoulder. She was also very tired – the mixture of a lack of sleep and the warmth from the room enveloped her body and created a cocoon of comfort she wasn't ready to break just yet. She became comfortable in the recliner and opted to stay there for the rest of the journey. Gracefully, she pulled a black leather notebook, opened up to a new page and began to write.

This summer is thankfully over. It's been so hard to deal with my father and his newest fling. I know Harry has rough summers with his family, we all know that, but what would they say if they knew what I had to deal with, too. I just hope the charms don't fall before I get to my room tonight. None of them can ever see the bruises and pain written across my body. No, no one can ever find out, but sometimes it's so hard to keep everything inside of myself. I just want to scream it out, run away or even ask for help. But no, for now, I'll just let myself revel in the fact that it is my final year at Hogwarts before I become a full-fledged adult witch. I should try to enjoy it.

With that, Hermione slowly dropped the notebook to the floor and fell into a fitful sleep, one not eased by her extreme exhaustion or the warm recliner. After a few minutes, her small body began to twitch and shake and she woke with a start, screaming and panting. She had been having nightmares for the entire summer, but she had hoped that they would end when she left what was causing the nightmares. She silently sobbed for a few minutes before feeling the train slow down and she ran to get her robes on, bidding adieu to the compartment before searching for her friends outside the train. Her search was unsuccessful, so she went to find an empty carriage.

Every carriage was full except the one at the end of the row. She stepped up and settled herself in for her final ride up to Hogwarts. Suddenly, she realized how many lasts were going to occur this year and began to feel even more depressed. The mood wasn't lightened when a figure entered the carriage, assuming he was the only one in there.

"Get out," spat Hermione, shooting the individual an frosty glare.

"Absolutely not, this is the last carriage that has any room and you're not all Miss High and Mighty, you must share this carriage," responded Draco. Hermione just sighed, lowered farther into her seat and tried to somewhat enjoy her trip up to Hogwarts.

Meanwhile, Malfoy used the time to further examine the girl. She looked like she had calmed down since the scare in compartment three. He also noted she looked really good this year – her hair draped gracefully around her shoulders and her body had the perfect amount of curves on it. If he didn't know better, he would assume that she was the happiest she could ever be. Her friend defeated Voldemort, the wizarding world was becoming safer for everyone, and she was the Head Girl – something he knew she had desperately craved since the second day of school. It wasn't until he really looked at her eyes, full of uncried tears and heartache, lids heavy and a faint outline of bags under them that he remembered – looks can be deceiving.