A/N: Sorry for such the long wait! First I got into a writer's block and then I was just too lazy to finish this xD Please forgive me!

By the way, thanks so much for the reviews on the last chapter! It was my favorite of them all as well.

Muggle World

Chapter Eight:

I Can't Forget

Hermione was half standing, half crouching. She was about to run after Crockshanks but suddenly stopped when she caught Draco's eyes. She wanted to cry out in relief and tackle him in an embrace. But of course she couldn't do that with Blaise around. Damn him.

Secondly she registered his words and she looked over at the Italian who was grinning widely. "Sorry, mate," he said with a laugh. "You know I can't resist a good joke." He then turned towards a baffled Hermione. "Sorry about that, Granger—no offence I hope?" he asked with a smile. All the Gryffindor could do was nod, her mouth gapped open a bit in confusion. Okay, so wait: Blaise Zabini isn't the real Head Boy? And Draco Malfoy was? Or was this a joke? No wait this was a joke. Right? She gave up. "Well then, good. I better be on my way back then, change into school robes before we arrive." He then stood up—grabbing one of Hermione's hands as well and brought her up all the way. "It's been a pleasure getting to know you, 'Mione. Really." And with out expecting it, the boy kissed both of her cheeks feather-lightly, causing her to blush furiously and turn stone stiff. "Until later times then. Goodbye." He then exited the room, patting his best mate on the shoulder. When he passed by, he whispered so only the blonde could hear, "I envy you, man. Really."

Draco was glowering, obviously mad by his best friend's action towards his mudblood (yes, now that they were apart and he obviously and couldn't call her 'his girl' he went for the next best thing—'his mudblood'). But Hermione didn't notice; she was still standing there, shocked.

Speaking of which… Draco turned back to the compartment and watched the dumbstruck Hermione, and Boy! could he not have asked for a more perfect picture. The girl's mini skirt rode up high on the thigh visible to him, revealing the pale, lush and sensitive skin that would drive any man crazy to touch. He was not being horny, no. It was just the fact that the woman he constantly fantasized about was finally in his reach… With just one striding step he could reach up and caress that soft cheek, kiss those longing lips…

No. 'You can't do that,' he reminded himself bitterly and bit down on his tongue in frustration. 'You can't. You're supposed to forget! That was the deal…'

But how the heck was he suppose to do that? The last two months of summer break at the Malfoy Manor had been torturous, long, and sickening. After they had said their last farewells in the Muggle World, Draco and Narcissa Malfoy had apparated to Voldemort's latest domain to find Lucius kneeling at the Dark Lord's feet and briefing him on all the gossip he'd caught in Azkaban. Draco shuddered inwardly at the sight.

Stressed and worried beyond belief, Draco and his mother had waited nervously for him to meet them. Draco had wanted badly to run away as he watched him approach his family, knowing a punishment was in order—for both of them. But no; there was no escape in the first place and the punishment would just be harder to endure. There was no way around this man.

As the senior Malfoy walked towards the terrified two he was smirking. But as soon as he was in reach, he pushed Narcissa up against the wall by the neck with one hand. Draco started pleading with him, saying they were just there for a month, only to hide from the aurors. But Lucius had knocked him to the floor with his free hand, obviously not wanting to here his useless excuses. He hit his head and was knocked unconscious.

When the seventh year had woken up he found himself lying on the cold stone of the Malfoy dungeons in their basement of the Manor. He'd been placed there before and all ready had guesses about what would happen. A few hours later the boy's father came strolling along to his cell. He told him that he was to stay down there for two weeks with one meal a day. He told him that he hoped this would waste away the filthy muggle germs he had gathered through the small amount of time he'd spent away. Also he needed to learn his lesson.

"That was the most idiotic, dumb-ass thing you could have possibly done," his father had spat. "Living in such dirt… You've brought disgrace to the family, you and your mother." Lucius continued to rant on for what seemed forever to Draco; and he could do nothing except keep quiet and looking at the ground in false shame. He was a bug under this large man's gaze, a piece of trash littering his path. Right then Draco Malfoy was no better then a filthy mudblood himself by the disgusted glares he received from Lucius.

The two weeks passed by slowly and unmercifully. Each day he spent pacing the small cramped room, patient-less and wishing the time to fly to his evening meal. Not that he cared about the raw strip of meat and bread he received—it was a chance to seize the delivering house elf and ask it the one question that rang through his ears nonstop: Where was his mother? The thought that he wasn't there to protect her from Lucius' mad rages drove him crazy with guilt and anger towards himself. He should be there with her.

But every time Draco got a hold of one of the jittery creatures it would either resent and keep limp or start screaming and flapping around helplessly until he'd lat go, afraid it was creating such a ruckus it'd attract unwanted attention. He soon became sick with dread and worry for Narcissa. Not to mention physically sick as well. He had caught a miserable, non-stop cough from the damp, musty cell; it felt like his throat was on fire.

When his father finally came down after those two weeks to release him, Draco was sore and hurting like hell from sitting on the small cell's cold stone ground, every bone in his body screaming in agony. He had lost plenty of weight and muscle from the loss of fool and exercise. It took all of his might to stand up straight and keep the look of pain and misery from his face when Lucius entered.

Things went back to 'normal' after that. Te was able to eat his full three times a day and sleep soundly in his king-sized bed. But Lucius watched every move he made. The boy was constantly being forced into his father's company, wither it was over lunch, in his office, or just a simple walk in their grand gardens. They would talk of politics, new laws in the Ministry, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and—to Draco's disgust—how He would change this worthless planet.

The Ministry and its stupid Aurors would be vanquished, Lucius had said, and be replaced by the Dark Lord in full power. Anyone who tried to get in His way would easily be dealt with by the killing curse without second thought. The dark mark would be visible in every building, every house, every store to remind everybody of the new and hectic change.

Laws would be made by Him and Him alone, free to modified or added to His pleasure. Only a handful of his most trustworthy followers would be there to advise Him on an occasional basis—a dangerous job, no doubt. One wrong move under his nose and there would be no hesitation for them being exiled.

Draco's father said he would be one of those few and seemed quite proud of his new position. Draco wanted to laugh in his face and cry at the same time. This meant he was loosing his father already; a thing he wasn't sure was good or bad.

Their last conversation was the one Draco had been praying they'd skip over: Muggle Borns.

They had been walking along a garden's path when Lucius and so casually brought it up. He said he Dark Lorded planed to get rid of those blood traitors first (including the Weasley's) and then the half-breeds themselves (—Hermione Granger). Draco's heart sped up when his father started laughing about this, and he swore it could have been heard ten miles away. Plus, to make things worse, he swore he saw a smirk grace his pale lips when Draco cringed. The bastard knew. But he continued on with no pause, no gap. He said that then, once they had been taken care of, the Muggle World would be next in line. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would rampage on their homeland without wavering or caring what their thoughts or reactions of them doing magic were. The lowlives would be killed in an instant; as soon as they were gone the sooner they could start spreading Voldemort's domain.

After that last conversation Draco tried to keep as much distance and possible he could between himself and his father. He had to think about this, and with him there as a constant reminder it only made stress worse. Over that short period of time he'd spent over in the Muggle World he had grown to love it; the people and its culture. Everyone was friendly, laid back. There wasn't that constant stress about the war always lurking in the back of their minds. So now he finally understood the 'low, filthy place' he had grown up to hate—and ended up admiring it.

Narcissa was there—for only two moments tops before she scurried away, saying a kind word to Draco before she left. Lucius didn't seem to mind her oddity. In fact he didn't seem to even notice her. But when Draco had stood up once to run after her, he'd told him to sit in a deadly cold manner. He had obliged, and by that he never figured out what the bastard had done to his mother.

The rest of the summer went by slow and an uneasy atmosphere was all around the place. At last—after thinking he would be stuck there forever—it was time to go to his seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts.

And that's how he'd ended up there, on the Hogwarts Express, in the same compartment of the girl he'd grown to admire. They were to be Heads together and for a reason he was pretty sure he knew of his stomach flipped.

'You idiot!' he growled to himself mentally, remembering their statuses. 'She's a mudblood—filth, trash, lower than you, mere garbage…' But when he cleared his throat to catch her attention and those honey eyes met cold steel ones every attempt of hating her vanished and was replaced by that feeling he got every time he looked at her face…

They stood there a moment, gazing into each other's eyes before Hermione spoke.

"Draco—"

"Your cat ran out, Granger," the blonde sputtered before he knew exactly what he was saying. He pointed franticly to the left. "It went that way…I think." He felt a strange blush rising to his cheeks for some unknown reason and he casually looked down to hide it.

Hermione frowned and bit her bottom lip in confusion. Nice way to ruin the mood, Draco. She straightened herself up and tried to keep the distraught look of pain off her face. "Oh," she managed out in a whisper and scrambled out the compartment before she could embarrass herself any further. Draco graciously moved out of her way.

The Gryffindor looked towards the direction Draco had pointed out and gave a crying laugh. "Crookshanks!" she whined and jogged down the narrow passageway and stopped at an abandoned roll-cart where her fur-ball was standing on it. The cat, hearing his owner's voice, twirled around to give her a questioning look. While doing so he managed to knock a couple candy wrappers off and onto the ground.

"Silly kitty," Hermione sighed, scooping up her cat with one are and using her other hand to fling the trash back on the cart. She then brought the feline to her eye-level by his shoulders and grinned. "Don't you ever, ever do that again do you hear?" she cooed and snuggled her nose against the cat's cheek; he purred in response. "You'd be taken away from me if one of the teachers had found you before me! Plus, you know it's my first day being Head. I don't think it would be to great getting off on the wrong foot," she laughed and cradled him like a three-month-old baby.

Hermione smiled down at the fur-ball who looked up at her with that ever so curious look sadly. "Well, guess it's time to face that infuriating man, huh?" she asked the cat in a distant tone. "Here's the deal: we go in together. If he attacks me I plan on you having my back. Same here with you." She smirked when Crookshanks only meowed cutely and snuggled closer in the crook of her elbow. "It's a deal then." Taking a deep breath, she slowly walked back to their compartment and with her heart leaping she entered.

Draco had taken the spot—with the same position—Blaise was just sitting in minutes before. His eyes were closed and head bowed as if taking a nap. She didn't know what to do.

Placing Crookshanks in his carrier, Hermione took her seat once more and just sat there, hands in lap and twiddling her thumbs senselessly. When she realized he wasn't paying any attention at all, the girl flopped uselessly against the back of the cushioned bench, sighing loudly. "What's up?" she said to no one in particular, just feeling like she had to ask. When there was no answer (from anyone, not just Draco) she continued on only this time more to herself. "I can't believe I actually fell for Zabini's trick…that was totally retarded of me."

A snort of laughter was heard from the other side of the compartment and Hermione looked up just in time to see Draco's lips curled up in amusement before falling back into that bored expression, acting like he'd heard nothing. "So you're not a dead pile of junk then?" Hermione asked with a smirk referring to his slight chortle.

Draco looked up for a second, sparing Hermione a dangerous glance before hiding his face again. "No, I just found it humorous you fell for Blaise's old tricks," he replied in a monotone. "Besides, maybe I like being a dead pile of junk." This brought a nervous smile to the Gryffindor's face.

"Draco, are you—"

"Draco or Malfoy?" he asked. The question was quite clear.

Hermione's mouth never shut from being interrupted. After a moment of silence she sighed and slumped against the seat. "I…I don't know," she whispered as if she'd just admitted to defeat. She stared at her hands as they both sat there thinking.

"I don't either," Draco mumbled, shifting in his seat but not lifting his head. Another pause. "Granger and Malfoy would be the wise choice, though."

She nodded. "Yes, it would…" Sensing it was decided the two fell back to their awkward quiet. Hermione didn't like it but she knew it was only appropriate. An hour passed by like this and Hermione had eventually gotten up, rummaged through a bag real fast and left with a bundle of clothing. A moment later she had arrived back clothed in her school robes, her Head's badge pinned neatly next to her heart; finally she felt clothed. Once she'd gotten back to her spot—along with taking a book out—Draco had stood up and followed her lead. But before he exited…

He was at the doorframe and clutched it with one hand; his back was faced to her. "Gr-Granger?" His voice cracked from both the lack of using it and the want to taste her first name on his tongue once more.

At the sound of her name, Hermione looked up with her heart skipping a quick beat. "Yes, Malfoy?" Why did he look so stiff?

"I…I just wanted to let you know…that I can't forget." At his words she saw him flinch outwards, but her heart had come up to her throat, choking any response she might have had. In a flash he was out the door and left her stunned.

Hermione was left there for the rest of the short remaining time; he'd never returned after his last statement. It was five minutes before they disembarked from the train before he finally returned, only to gather up his stuff and motion for Hermione to follow. The two got off together (as requested) and pushed through the crowd to get to their carriage. Hermione found herself being separated from the Slytherin with all the commotion going on around them so she grabbed his shoulder. Both of them froze for half a second before she realized her mistake and gripped his carry-on leather bag instead.

When they finally reached their designated carriage they both flopped down into the worn benches, Draco at the front and Hermione in the back. They locked gazes for a moment before Hermione bowed her head in embarrassment and Draco smiled a genuine smile. It was like things were back to normal, just at the same time not.

The ride to the castle was short and soon they found themselves separating to go to their own house table in the Great Hall. Hermione met up with Harry, Ginny and Ron with a huge smile, hugging them and laughing at nothing in particular. She greeted her other long-missed friends with warmth and love; it was like a mini reunion.

A while later, once everyone had settled down and gotten to their tables, Dumbledore had stood up like usual and gave a wondrous speech before the sorting of first years began. They all cheered and clapped every time one of the kids was sorted into their house, happy to have another mate.

But then the old man did something he'd never done before. He asked for the two Heads of this year to stand up and come to his side. Both Draco and Hermione were wary of this new announcement but did as told. It seemed forever until she finally reached their Headmaster, the eyes of many drilling into her back and whispers being heard all around. Now she knew how Harry felt all those times he was forced to do such things.

The two got to him at the same time and stood next to either side of him, Hermione to his right and Draco to his left.

"Now, children," Dumbledore boomed to his students, placing a wrinkled hand on one of each their shoulders, "I know what you're thinking: a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. Shocking, isn't it?" He looked over at Hermione and gave her a wink. "Arch nemesis forever. But I think I can prove you wrong.

"Ever since this school of Witchcraft and Wizardry has opened these two houses have had a scrupulous hate towards each other. And with this war going on it's not helping anything at all. So this is why I bring these two worthy young-adults together—hoping to bond a friendship that has never been." There was a twinkle in his brilliant eyes.

"Many of you are probably thinking that this old man has finally fell off his rocker, but I assure you I know what I'm doing. Much thought have I put into this choice, and I hope that you will soon see my logic." The man who stood in front of these many children looked over them for reactions. "So then," he cleared his throat, "May I proudly introduce your new Head Girl and Boy—Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger!"

There was an uneasy applause from the four houses, the whispers and mumbled amassment seemed louder than it though. Hermione, not knowing what to do, held her head high showing everyone that she was proud of her position, not matter what. Not surprisingly Draco did the same. After a pause there was a push on her back and both the seventh years went back to their tables.

Sinking quietly onto her portion of the long bench Hermione tried her best to ignore the sympathetic looks and pats on the back from her schoolmates. What would they do if they figured out she was quite glad to be put in the same commons as a Slytherin? Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Sex God at no least?

Soon the announcements were over with and the feast began. There were audible gasps from the first years in their surprise and laughter and chat was heard all around the entire dinning hall. Hermione, slightly loosening up, joined in with her surrounding friends' conversation, laughing and enjoying her meal like all the others. She didn't want it to end, didn't want the light atmosphere to leave her hanging in that confusing world she was constantly in.

But too soon it was over. Everyone was swarming out, stomachs full and tired from the long journey there. Not knowing where to go, though, Hermione gripped Ron's elbow and he turned around to give her a questioning look. The girl only shrugged helplessly and nodded to move on. No one had told her where to go after this so she decided on the best alternative: go to her old dormitory, the Gryffindor Tower.

Right where they were about to get on the Grand Staircase, however, Hermione felt a strong hand wrap around her wrist and pull her backwards. She lost her grip on Ron—who, being a total bloke, didn't realize—and stumbled until she felt a firm chest on the small of her back. It was Draco.

Before she could react though he was pulling her away from the direction she was just a second ago heading. The constant motion of the crowd kept them from speaking and—to Hermione's disadvantage—from seeing exactly where they were headed. But soon enough Draco was standing in one of the halls where you could find a teacher's sleeping chambers and talking to a portrait on the wall; the Gryffindor presumed it was their entrance.

"So you're the new Heads for this year?" the painting of a burly man boomed from the frame. Draco nodded. "What do you think then, Wendy? Think they'll be a pretty good match?

Standing to his left was a small woman, her mousy blue hair caught up in a messy ponytail and her mouth twitched slightly. "I don't know, John," the witch drawled slowly, studying the two with seeing eyes. "Just look at their robes. Slytherin and Gryffindor. Why, I don't believe we've come across this pairing before, have we dear!"

"No, we have not yet indeed, Wendy."

"Oh, just shut up!" Draco spat, obviously annoyed at the two gawking at him and Hermione. The couple glared down at him. "The password is 'Ever Lasting', now open up before you're blown to pieces." Not sure how to react to his harsh terms, the portrait swung open and Draco stomped in flustered. Hermione followed—after saying a quick apology.

Wanting to see the new living area she would be spending most of her time in, Hermione rushed up the small flight of stairs only to bump into the Slytherin blocking her view, crashing her fragile nose against his back.

"Ouch," she whined, clutching her throbbing nose and glaring at her roommate's back. "Move out of the way, Draco!" she said, pushing the Slytherin to the side so she could get a look at what he was gawking at.

In front of them was a luxurious commons, the interior so much more extravagant than their old house's. All around was silver, green, red, and gold; somehow they all blended in together, not clashing at the least. To the left was a large couch, an over-stuffed lounging chair, and a rocking chair sitting on a beautifully designed rug, all surrounding a welcoming fire place that blazed with life.

To the right was quite the surprise: a pool table stood in the middle with an entire set of necessities, a large stereo-system with countless CD's neatly piled next to it on a rack, three beanie-bags laying around a Play Station 2 hooked up to a plasma T.V., Quidditch posters littering the walls and a fuse-ball table next to a pile of board games. It was a muggle's paradise and Draco couldn't help but feel excited.

In the middle of their commons stood a miniature kitchen, supporting a sink, refrigerator, and an oven. Hermione rushed over to it and immediately started scavenging through the many cupboards and drawers. Food mix, teas, herbs, canned vegetables and fruits, oils, sugar and flower covered an entire pantry. Pans and pots littered others along with every cooking utensil they would need.

"Oh, this is great!" Hermione peeped, bouncing up and down on the balls of her heels. She began searching through the higher shelves. "Now we wont even have to go down for breakfast—we can make it right here!"

"You're kidding, right?" Draco stood at the pool table where he had been examining one of the poles; though he did not know how to play, it didn't seem too tough from the looking's of it. "Hey, 'Mione, get over here!" he called over to the kitchen. She jogged right over.

"Yeah?" The Gryffindor look at him and then down; a wicked smile played at the corner of her lips when she realized what was going on. "Malfoy, you better not be challenging me to a game. For your information I am a master at pool." She held her head up in a queenly manner.

Draco shoved the other stick into her hands. "Look, just teach me how to play first." A spark came to his gray eyes. "And then we'll see if you're as good as you think." Winking, he motioned for her to go on and explain. After just a quick fifteen minutes lesson Draco had already caught on. He watched Hermione's every move, mimicking her ways some and others adjusting to his own comfort. Once he thought he'd gotten it down, he turned towards the witch with a smirk. "Well?" he asked. "Do you think I'm ready?"

Hermione was glaring at the Slytherin boy. "How is it that you're perfect at every game?" she demanded; Draco shrugged helplessly and she rolled her eyes. "Never mind, let's just play." She started taking out the recently shot balls and placing them in the triangle. "Just because you're a fast learner doesn't mean you can beat me at a game of strategy."

"You sure about that?" Draco mused, coming up from behind. She nodded eagerly, still arranging the pool table. "Well then, I guess you wont mind me being a little tricky then." He grabbed her waist and pinched the sensitive flesh there, knowing it would make her jump like it always did with others. And she did.

"Eep!" Out of natural habit Hermione twirled around in his grasp and raised a hand to smack him; too bad he intercepted it and held her wrist, grinning down at her. The Gryffindor glared up at him. "That wasn't funny," she snapped, a tint of humor now glinting in her eyes. She couldn't help it. "And no, it's not okay for you to cheat like that!"

"Oh, yeah?" he purred, bringing her body closer to his. "And how do you plan on winning then?"

Hermione just smirked devilishly and pushed away from him. "I break first."

Teasing, tripping and spooks were used to through the other off balance. At first it was just Draco doing so, but Hermione, soon becoming ticked off, joined in his little game. They were laughing all through it and when Hermione won by two balls Draco demanded a rematch. Hermione just giggled. "Whatever!" she said, going over to change the music they had been playing on the stereo. "You lost fair and square—just admit it. Besides"—she jumped on a beanie-bag and motioned for Draco to do the same—"there's still much to try out." Thus they began a racing videogame (though the Gryffindor had protested at first for anything else).

It was 1:30 in the morning before they were both worn out, Hermione splayed over Draco's chest on the couch while they watched the fire in contentment. They stayed like that in peace for what seemed forever, neither wanting to get up and ruin the moment; it was Draco who finally spoke.

"Time to get up," he yawned, shifting a bit to get the witch's attention. She just mumbled something and snuggled closer to his chest. "'Mione," he said, "time to get up, get in our own beds."

Hermione just shook her head. "No. I like it like this…" She sighed in contentment. "In fact, I haven't been more comfortable in a long time…"

Draco only grinned and lifted her up himself. "Same here," he replied, brushing hair out of her face and staring into those tired eyes with a smile. "But…we can't be like this, you know."

Those last words struck her hard and Hermione didn't know how to comprehend. "You're right…" she mumbled and back away from him slowly, still not sure what to do. "I mean…it wont work out." She rushed over to where her room was and said, "Good night, Malfoy."

He bowed his head in shame. "Good night…Granger," he bit out the last word. When the Slytherin heard the click of her door closing, Draco followed suit and sulked over to his. Right when he was about to enter, however, he heard his name in a whisper.

"D—Draco?" He spun around to see Hermione half behind her door.

"Yeah, Herm?" For some reason that nickname stuck with him ever since the Muggle World.

"I was wondering… What happened after you left?" The Slytherin visibly flinched but covered up with a small smile; Hermione bit her bottom lip in anticipation.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he reassured her and slipped into his own room before she could reply.

A/N: Hey, go check out my best friend's stories! They're on Quizilla under the pen-name kittywhiskers05. I really enjoy her writing (hillarious for the most part with quite a bit of sarcasm xD, other times serious) and I think you guys will too! Thanks!

Please review! I'll love you FOREVER! MUAH!

Peasant