"Do you see Malfoy?" Ron asked on the train.

Harry managed some convincing half-hearted glances around their carriage then absently replying, "Hmm? No, he's not here."

"Of course he isn't here!" Ron exclaimed. He wondered why Harry wasn't as curious as him. Both Ron and Hermione knew that Harry had always a soft spot for mysteries…

"Come on, Ron. Get a grip on yourself. Do you have to waste your time on that Malfoy ingrate?" Hermione said, without looking up from her new potions textbook.

Ron popped a 'Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans' into his mouth gingerly, afraid of what this flavour might be. Upon taking the first bite, he spat it out immediately.

"Ginger! Good Heavens, ginger!" He sputtered, but no one noticed him. Harry was too busy looking out of the window, lost in his train of thought, while Hermione was still looking at that damn book.

"You took the risk, Ron," Hermione spoke again.

"Fine, fine! You win! I really wonder why you always liked to pick on me! It's not like I'm Malfoy or something!" He fell silent for the rest of the journey then, in the end choosing Chocolate Frogs over those beans again, which was much safer and more delicious.

Actually, Hermione's books were just a façade. In actual fact, she was as curious as Ron to find out what had happened to Draco and where he lived now. Perhaps, Narcissa Malfoy's maternal home? But there was still no definite answer, and some itching, nosy part of Hermione wanted to know. That mean, evil brute who thought the whole world owes him a living was actually in trouble now! After all, he just looked a Mummy's boy, always screaming for his mother whenever he got afraid. Just a coward who pretended to be a bully. Hermione would very well like to see how he was getting on now and certainly hoped he was miserable, alone and cold without his precious Daddy. She almost laughed aloud and knew that Harry was thinking at the same line as her. Except for the last part, of course, Harry never had a very mean streak in him.

What had Lucius Malfoy done actually? And why was Dumbledore in the picture? This certainly made the whole matter far more interesting.


As Harry walked up the steps to the castle, trying to stay in line with the crowd, he caught a glimpse of familiar Slytherin green from a nearby tall pillar. Why, it was Draco Malfoy, crossing his arms across his chest, his grey eyes looking at Harry, only at Harry. Malfoy looked a lttle unusual and different this time, though Harry could not fathom why and how it is different. Malfoy averted his gaze, to someone standing beside him, and Harry turned to see Hermione.

"Why are you stopping? You're clogging up everyone." Ron asked, but saw Malfoy in time. The trio stepped out a bit from the people, thus refraining from obstructing the crowd.

"If it wasn't for Harry Potter…" Malfoy murmured under his breath.

Hermione noticed that his hair was much longer, white blond that grew up to the nape of his neck. At least it looked better during his first and second year in Hogwarts, which was the slick back style that she and Ron had always laughed about. And his grey eyes – there was something disturbing in them. He looked older. Much older.

"Malfoy, I heard your father is on a Suspension Order?" Ron aimed his attack straight and true.

Harry thought of interrupting Malfoy's answer, because he did not feel like getting into trouble on the first day of school. However, Malfoy reacted quite unexpectedly.

"Yes."

He sounded almost world weary, Hermione lamented, but chased that thought away to he just speaking a little too softly. But what had happened to his usual snide comments? That mean streak he always had?

"What are you doing here anyway?" Hermione asked? "Why weren't you on the train?"

An odd look ran across his face and he hesitated. "I stayed here for a month. Why, being a busybody, M – mud… Muggle?" Malfoy snapped. Or rather, tried to. He lacked his usual spirit. He was failing to scare her, terribly. Except that…

A muggle! He never called her that! It's was always a Mudblood. What has happened anyway? Was it because of the 'blow' he had suffered? Hah! Self pitying bastard. He should know that his suffering was less than Harry's, who had enough family members who died.

"MALFOY!" a shriek came from behind Hermione and she watched as Pansy Parkinson practically flung her whole self onto Malfoy, and Hermione wondered whether he could breathe, judging from the way Parkinson was wrangling onto his neck.

Apparently not.

He started coughing a few seconds later.

"Let – me… Me GO!" Malfoy said, choking at the same time.

"Shame on you, Malfoy," Hermione said levelly, "fancy being raped by a girl."

Ron burst into incredible fits of laughter and Harry was trying to stifle his. Instantly Malfoy turned to a beet red, and lugged a doe eyed Parkinson along with him who was groping onto his arm.

But not before he said something to Hermione.

Not before he whispered "Mudblood' into her ear.

So he was the same after all, thought Hermione. She felt no anger, for she was quite used to him telling her that for the past six years in Hogwarts. She had realized, as she was growing up, that taking a bastard's words in heart was just showing him how much he affected her. She shrugged inwardly and followed Harry and Ron with the crowd.


After the Grand Feast, Draco successfully managed to shrug the sickening Pansy away and headed back to the common room earlier than the others, who still had not finished their fill yet. His footsteps echoed through the empty hallway and he thought of the reaction he had when he saw Potter, Weasley and Granger together. Recently he never smiled. Always thinking, always searching for something but not knowing what it could be.

He had felt a sudden uncomfortable twist in his heart, which was how he felt every time he saw those three people. He thought it was hate and intense dislike at first; like he always did in the past, but Dumbledore's words rang in his ears and he thought twice. Was this how jealousy feels like? Or was it hate? Whatever it was, it was not comfortable. He disliked the similar twinkle that each of them had in their eyes, and how happy they had looked together before noticing him. Like they really hated him. And he supposed they do. Always insulting them, playing pranks, tricks, sometimes, even endangering them. They had a valid reason to hate him. But for Draco?

What reason has he got?

He sighed to himself, knowing that he never hated those three people. What was wrong with him anyway? During the one month he had already thought everything through! He had already known that it was really only plain jealousy he felt for them, and why was he doubting these feelings again? And suddenly he didn't want to think anymore. He had become so tired. So worn out…

But he saw Granger then, walking towards him, a book in hand as always, but both halted the moment they noticed each other. Now this was his chance. Just one more question, one more thought, and he could let everything go. He watched her brown eyes widen from shock to fear, then to pure disdain. Yes, he thought sadly. They really do hate me.

"Granger." He almost smirked. He was so used to smirking every time he saw her that he almost did that. Only that he did not stop himself on purpose. It was as if his body was trying to defy his brain by itself. Draco started walking towards her. She closed her book and hugged it for dear life, as if it was her amulet to protect herself from him. Maybe it was. She could very well throw the book at him and run away. If she must.

"What do you want?" She snapped, looking at him, knowing that it was time for one of his insults again. As much as she did not want to be affected by him, she was worried of how her hair looked like now. She thought it looked better than its previous bushy state when she was younger…

Hermione started taking steps backwards when she saw the look on his face. His steely grey eyes almost looked as if he was in denial, like he was desperate; and had lost nothing but his usual maniacal gleam. Soon, Hermione realized and panicked, she was driven against the cold stone wall, with Malfoy just standing a few inches apart from her. She fought the urge of punching him straight in his arrogant nose. Furthermore, she was a grown up girl now, and could distinctively feel his strong male presence. Stop it! She commanded herself. This boy, this male, this Malfoy who always sniggered at her, laughed at her hair and teeth, this bastard, was actually scaring her!

"I need to ask you something – please, do not be afraid, I mean no harm." Hermione almost could not believe her ears. "Do you hate me?" in the dim lit hallway she could see the flickering fire torches dancing in his cold flinty eyes and somehow something stirring in them told her that he needed the truth. The very plain truth.

"Yes," Hermione spat at him, "the moment you called me a 'Mudblood' I have hated you! You hate me too, don't you? Sickening Pureblood?"

He spoke nothing. Only looked at her.

"How does hating me feels like?"

"Why – M…Malfoy, why would you want to know?" He remained silent, just continued looking at her with piercing eyes. "Well, I was just speaking figuratively, not literally. I mean, hate is a strong word. I don't want you dead, oh no, hating means wanting someone dead, well no, I mean…" Hermione stopped herself when she realized that she was babbling nonsense. Somehow all rational thoughts in her head had fled the moment she saw the vast sadness and loss in his eyes. It is not as if he often showed his feelings to people. Now thinking of it, it was even a wonder that he had feelings and emotions at all. But now joy seemed to be the right word that she saw written all over his face.

"Now, you get away from me." Hermione felt the urge to push him at his chest, but almost blanched at the thought that she would have to touch him. No, anyone but him. This weirdo. He seemed to be having mood swings since turning seventeen.

He took a step away from her, but not before he kissed her hair and said, "Thank you, Hermione", then with a sweep of his robes, disappeared into the darkness of the hallway. A stunned Hermione remained plastered on the wall, still feeling Malfoy's lingering presence.

A few seconds later the Great Hall's doors burst open, and people started flooding the hallway, walking back to their respective common rooms, as if nothing has happened. Of course nothing has happened, Hermione scolded herself.

But something did.

Something did…