"Oh… Draco!" A rich voice taunted from just outside of his cell. Draco glanced up, surprised, having not had any human contact for weeks-all the food was delivered by wary house elves.

"Draco," It repeated snidely, and he suddenly realized that it could be no one but his father.

"What do you want?" He spluttered, wiping his parched lips with the back of his filthy hand, a new habit of his. Lucius slid open the cell doors noiselessly, mindlessly twirling the keys around and around on his spindly index finger, a malicious smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Wouldn't want to be late, would we?" He sneered, pulling him out of the space by his shirt collar, grimy as it was. Lucius quickly let go as soon as the doors were shut, however; he didn't want to catch anything. "It's September the first-we've got to send you off to your lovely school! We wouldn't want anyone suspecting anything, now would we?" .

Draco spat at his so-called-father's undoubtedly just shined shoes (missing by a few inches), his own feet bare and callused by the endless hours of pacing around his stone and dirt-floored cage. Lucius snorted loudly and grabbed his son's shoulders, ruthlessly shoving him ahead. His wand promptly hovered above the small of Draco's back, mercilessly prodding until they reached his pathetic-excuse–for-a-son's room.

"Your things are already packed," He said, and Draco recognized the hatred dripping from his voice; he used it so often himself. "I suggest you clean up and get dressed…" Lucius exclaimed judgmentally, the light from the torches dancing cruelly in his cold eyes, which were settling upon Draco's attire; a ratty gray shirt and tattered plaid shorts. "You look like shit. And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

"Fuck you," He muttered after slamming the door in his father's grinning face. Once, he would have retorted with a clever insult, but after all that he had been through in the last year or so, he no longer possessed the physical strength nor energy to stand up to Lucius. As he undressed, being careful of his wounds, he gazed at his diminished figure in the cracked mirror hanging next to his antique armoire.

Usually very thin in the first place, but weighing in at 137 pounds at the cause of his muscles, he was now very sure that he had lost at least 20 pounds just in the last two months. He had suspected this all along; Lucius sent down only what rotting fruit he could smuggle without Narcissa noticing anything, Not that that old bat would know anything was wrong even if the house was burning down in front of her very eyes; what with all of the meds and alcohol she was taking lately.

But back to the matter at hand-getting dressed. He turned to his armoire and pulled open the top drawer, reaching and pulling out the first article of clothing he could lay his grimy hands on. His eyes were met with a horrible cream dress shirt-pleated up the front- but he decided to wear it all the same. Who really cared?

Fishing out a pair of tight-they used to be tight, at least-black pants and a pair of blue boxer-shorts, he piled them into his hands and walked slowly towards the open door of "his" bathroom.

He hadn't used it all summer, and the shower walls were becoming mildewed, the mirror clouded, the floor dirty. Every aspect of the room was gloomy-but gloomy suited him. He set the wrinkled clothes on the toilet seat-he didn't even want to fathom what might be in there-and slid open the rusted shower doors, stepping inside.

The cold, marble floor was slippery beneath his feet, despite the tough calluses and he had to grip the edges of the glass doors to gain his balance. Being careful not to step wrongly and maybe take a debilitating fall, he slowly turned up the warm water, letting it ripple around his skin lazily. The warmth felt so good on his aching bones, but the pulsating motion of the water stung the angry, red gashes that decorated his otherwise pale back Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, all dirt successfully removed.

Making sure that nobody could see any sign of his gashes through the loosely fitting shirt, he wandered downstairs and into the cavernous dining room, where his father sat at the long oak table reading the newspaper. Sitting down at the opposite end, his mouth watered at the sight of his breakfast.

"It appears that Mrs. Zabini seems to have vanished without a trace," said Lucius in a bored sort of voice, crinkling the newspaper closed and turning back to his full plate of food.

Draco choked for a moment on his bacon. "Mrs. Zabini? As in Blaise's mother?"

"How many other Zabini's do you know?" snapped Lucius. "Anyways, it doesn't matter. She was merely there to provide an heir."

Draco clenched his fists together in hatred, but tried to concentrate on his meal, which was the best one he'd had for-well, he couldn't recall how long, seeing as he'd only had rotting fruit for the last three months.

"Draco."

Draco glanced up at his father and said nothing.

"It's 10:00," he drawled, pointing at the antique silver clock hanging on the wall near the library door. "We should get going if we want to make good time."

He nodded almost undetectably, and Lucius strode regally outside to the sleek, black car, Draco in tow.

"Are my crate and owl in the trunk?" he asked bitingly.

"Of course," said Lucius with a wry smirk and tapping his bony forehead with his pointer finger. "Malfoys never forget."

As they climbed into the convertible, Draco realized something he had forgotten.

"Father, can I go grab something?"

Lucius sighed impatiently. "If you must," he whispered irritably, looking down at his silver watch. "But make it quick." He added, enunciating every word through clenched teeth.

Draco sprinted inside and into the vast marble room, aiming his wand at the east wing where he slept. "Accio journal!"

A black leather-bound book flew into Draco's outstretched hand, and, hiding it in his robes, he hurried back to the car and busied himself by starting to read 999 Potions – A Beginners Guide as they began the journey to Kings Cross.

"Ginny!"

Ginny turned around and saw her mother staring at her with laughing eyes.

"Aren't you going to give your mother a kiss goodbye?" said Molly, trying to look like she was faking sadness.

Luckily, it worked and Ginny pretended to groan, but still put her trunk and owl cage down to run over to her mum and hug her.

"You'll write, right Mum?" she asked, her voice a bit muffled from the many cloths and cloaks layered on top of Molly's chest.

"Of course, dear," said Mrs. Weasley fondly, stroking Ginny's red curls. "Now you get going, or you'll miss the train."

Ginny sighed, but it was not just any old sigh. It was expressing sadness, (over leaving her family) fear, (of what the New Year would bring) and excitement (over going to Hogwarts, her second home). She gave her mum one last kiss on the cheek, grabbed her trunk and Aladra's cage, and sprinted off to the Hogwarts Express, which was now billowing clouds of white smoke from the tall stack in front.

Molly Weasley seized her handkerchief from inside her robes and blew her nose loudly. I mustn't cry.... I must not cry…

0

Ginny burst into Ron, and Hermione's compartment (she supposed it was Harry's also, maybe he was off in the bathroom or something), breathing heavily, her trunk swinging wildly behind her and Aladra's cage tucked tightly in her hand.

"Ginny!" gasped Hermione, half surprised at Ginny's sudden arrival, half relieved that she had made the train. "We were wondering when you would decide to join us."

"Oh. Well. I was a bit late," Ginny's cheeks burned red- she was quite embarrassed, not wanting them all to know why she was so late.

"It happens all the time, Hermione," said Ron with a mocking smile. "It's nothing new."

Sticking her tongue out at her oh-so-funny (or so he thought) brother, Ginny put her luggage with the trio's, and plopped down next to Hermione.

"So 'Mione, how was your summer?" Ginny inquired, yawning widely and leaning her head back on the velvety red head-rest.

"Oh, it was awesome! Africa was absolutely enthralling! And guess what?" She exclaimed, frazzled hair bursting out of its ponytail-holder from all of the excitement.

"What?" Ginny ask, giggling appropriately as the holder bounced off the fogged window and landed on top of Ron's head.

"I've been made Head Girl!" Hermione squealed, showing Ginny the shiny badge as Ron scowled and plucked the sizzling elastic out of his hair.

"That's great, Hermione!" Ginny cried joyfully, giving her friend a little hug. "Wow!"

"So what about you?" Hermione wondered after they had broken apart. "What happened to you this summer?"

"Well... Pretty much absolutely nothing! I can't recall anything even mildly out of the ordinary." Ginny assured her, grinning widely.

Ron closed his eyes and stretched, placing his arm around Hermione as the two girls chatted on and on about their summer-well, Hermione went on and on about Africa, at least.

"You know, this is pretty much a perfect moment." He interrupted a particularly gruesome detail about a pair of African spiders, smiling contentedly. His sister and girlfriend both nodded thoughtfully, light dancing about in their eyes.

Harry's hand stopped a few inches from the brass handle, Ron's words seared into his brain. Perfect moment? A burning sensation emanating from the very center of his stomach welled up into his throat, anger growing with every second.

"Well, I suppose we'd better be off to the prefects' compartment." Hermione suggested from within the small room, and Harry's hand made contact with the cool brass. He slowly turned the ornate handle, and slid open the glass door.

"Harry! Where have you been?" Ginny said excitedly, bounding over to wrap him up in a tight hug. "I've missed you so much!"

He felt his anger softly ebbing away as she gripped him firmly, rocking back and forth. At least someone appreciated him.

"We'll be back soon, Harry." Ron promised him as he hurriedly pinned the prefect badge on his new black robes.

"See you in a bit," Harry said brightly (and calmly, he hoped), watching with empty eyes as the trio disappeared around the corner.

Ron burst through the compartment door and skidded on the marble floor loudly. The Head Boy and Girl stopped speaking abruptly as they watched Ron struggle to straighten his robes.

"Ron!" cried Ginny, cheeks burning red yet again. "What are you doing?!"

"Sorry," Ron panted as he got up and straightened his robes. "I – er – got held up."

"Held up?" said Hermione sternly-in a manner that reminded everyone of Professor McGonagall. "Fine, Ron. Sit down."

Ron hastily sat next to his sister as Hermione and Malfoy – wait – WHAT?????

"What – when – why is he Head Boy?" he yelped, pointing at the rather pale boy and sounding like he was referring to something nasty he had found on the bottom of his shoe.

"Since Dumbledore gave me the job, Weasley," Malfoy explained, sounding oddly subdued. The rest of the prefects looked to him in surprise. Malfoy not leaping at the chance to insult a Weasley? Unbelievable!

Even Ron looked shocked, but quickly recovered and crafted his startled look into a scornful sneer. "Why on earth would Dumbledore make you Head Boy?" he snarled, taking a small step closer to the pair.

Malfoy smirked gently-almost apologetically. "Don't ask me, Weasley." Another sharp intake of breath from the crowd of prefects. "Now as I was saying, we will need to partner up for the patrols, so if you would just –"

"Hold on one minute there, Malfoy!" Ron said indignantly, poking Malfoy fiercely in the chest. "You won't be partnered with Hermione, I won't let you!"

"Calm down, Weasley," replied Malfoy smoothly. "You can be her partner; I'll be with someone else." He shrugged his shoulders coolly and directed his attention at the others. "Now, please partner up, everyone."

Ginny looked around frantically. Everyone was already partnered up, which meant she was left with –

"Malfoy?"

Ron's eyes bulged out of his head. "Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, no. You will NOT be with Ginny, you will NOT be with Hermione, and you will – "

"It's either Granger or the littlest Weasley," He said simply, a little of the Draco he once knew reasserting itself in a cold stare. "Make your choice."

Ginny saw Ron look anxiously at Hermione, and then at her, and then at Hermione again… and she knew she had to make a sacrifice.

"I'll do it, Ron," she offered bravely, and the breath that she had been holding was let out promptly. "I can handle him, don't worry."

Ron gazed warily at her. "Are you sure?" When Ginny nodded, he smiled weakly at her and grasped Hermione's hand tightly. The pair stared at each other, silently flirting. Ginny groaned inwardly. She and Harry would probably have to move to different compartments now.

"Ok, has everyone got their schedules?" Malfoy called out to the other prefects.

A sea of swiveling heads met his gaze, and a tired sigh escaped his dry, cracking lips as he gingerly laid a stack of papers on the strong oak table. "Go crazy."

Suddenly, there was a huge mass of prefects rushing towards the table. Luckily, Ginny managed to get one early, and escaped as quickly as she could.

Striding quickly into her compartment, she told Harry, "We'd better get our stuff together."

Harry's eyes were void of expression as he replied, "Why?"

"I think Ron and Hermione need some, 'alone time'," Ginny smirked at him, making him blush slightly(or, that's how she interpreted the reddening of his cheeks). Harry groaned, but they laughed as they left the compartment, looking for an empty one that they could share.

"Hey Harry!"

Harry and Ginny turned around to see Seamus and Dean waving at him, grinning guiltily.

"Hey guys," said Harry, his mood and smile growing just a little bit happier.

"What's up?"

Their grins grew wider. "Neville just turned Trevor into a parrot!" Dean explained, with Seamus nodding along enthusiastically like one of those odd bobble-head dolls. As if proving his point, loud squawks promptly emitted from the room.

Harry looked at Ginny for a moment with pleading eyes. "Ginny – do you –"

"Go on then."

Harry shouted one last, "Thanks!" before he was dragged into the compartment by Dean and Seamus. Ginny stifled a giggle at the loud shouts that were now emanating throughout the corridor. Not wanting to be blamed for them, she hurried down the rest of the hallway, peering inside compartment after compartment after compartment…

Exhausted, Ginny wearily made her way to the last compartment, dragging her suitcase along behind her. All the compartments were either full, or its inhabitants were doing something – erm – private. Ginny shuddered as she remembered seeing Cho and Michael Corner snogging wildly a few compartments back.

Peering cautiously into the final room, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was completely empty!

Aladra hooted impatiently. "Shh, it's ok, girl," Ginny said in a soothing voice. "I've found us a place to sit."

And with that, she pulled her trunk into the room, put the owl cage on top of it, and, satisfied, she sat down on the left seat with a muffled flumping noise.

Trouble was, there was already someone sitting there.