A/N: Wow thank you so much for all the support this has gotten! I'm so happy :) I decided to upload Chapter Two earlier than intended because of this, so I hope you all enjoy. Thank you so much for all the follows, favourites and reviews, I really appreciate it! Have a good weekend!

This chapter has been amazingly beta'd by Srastrr. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Chapter Two: What are you wearing?

A scream filled the Malfoy Manor foyer, making Draco's ears ring. Blood began to pool around his feet, staining the white marble floor red. He tried to move away from the stream of crimson but his feet were rooted to the spot. He grabbed his knee with both hands, and gripped it tightly, trying to yank it from the floor as the blood rose higher and higher. As it neared his calves, a sinister laugh echoed around him.

Draco glanced around the room, trying to find where the laughter came from, to beg them to stop the rising blood. He saw a flash of faded black robes and pale skin but it darted away before he could get a good look at who it was.

He opened his mouth to yell for help, but his tongue wouldn't move. In fact, it felt like he had no tongue at all. Heart rate quickening, he reached a shaking hand up to his mouth and discovered his tongue had been cut out, only a nub of the muscle was left in its place. Adrenaline now coursing through him, he reached back down with a newfound panic, yanking and tearing at his legs to get them to move. The blood was now at his thighs and it soaked through the fabric of his trousers.

Another chilling laugh sounded directly behind him, making him freeze instantly. His whole body shook with a violent tremor as the sound of swishing robes came up to his back.

"Hello, Draco." He recognized that inhuman voice anywhere.

Voldemort.

Draco swallowed thickly, without his tongue he was unable to respond. An icy hand gripped his forehead, another came to hold his chin and forced him to stare straight ahead. From the blackness in front of him, two figures emerged. One, his dead Aunt Bellatrix, the sickening grin he hadn't seen in five years spread on her face. The other, a young Hermione Granger, pale and shaking with fear. His Aunt began to carve deep cuts all over her skin with that dreaded cursed dagger. Hermione was screaming, the sound making his brain rattle.

He tried to beg for it to stop but without his tongue, the words wouldn't form.

Blood began to run from the wounds to join the red surrounding him. It was now at his chest and he tried to move but the grip on his head was too strong.

"This is your fault, Draco," Voldemort whispered into his ear.

"Your fault," His dead father's voice filled the room as he stepped into view.

"Your fault," His mother, who he hadn't seen since the war, appeared next to Lucius.

"Your fault," Bellatrix echoed from in front of him, her mouth still twisted in a sinister grin.

The blood was now at his lips, and the metallic scent filled his nostrils. His heart hammered in his chest as his eyes landed on Hermione. Tears flowed down her thin face, and the crimson liquid now came to just below his eyes.

"Your fault." She whispered.

His vision went red as the blood swallowed him whole.

Draco woke with a start, covered in a cold sweat. His heart hammered in his chest and his breath came out ragged as he sat up. His eyes darted around the room and swept over his body. Finding no traces of blood on his person, he breathed a sigh of relief.

Draco closed his eyes and tried to get his bearings. He was in Hogwarts, it was the first of September 2003, the war ended over five years ago. Narcissa was in France, banned from ever returning to England. Lucius was dead, he killed himself before being given a life sentence in Azkaban. Bellatrix was dead, she was killed by Molly Weasley. Voldemort was dead, killed by Harry Potter.

Granger was fine, she was here in the castle two floors above him.

He felt his heart rate slow and he took a few more deep breaths until the nightmare became a wisp of a memory. He briefly wondered what had caused him to have such nightmares after all these years - he couldn't even remember the last time he had one. He chalked it up to first day nerves, it always set him on edge. He refused to entertain the thought that it was due to the surprise of seeing the bushy-haired muggleborn again.

Draco swung his legs from under his sheets and checked the pocket watch sitting on his nightstand. Six in the morning, earlier than he wanted to get up but too late to go justify going back to sleep. Not that he could, with how alert that nightmare had made him.

He settled on taking an extra long shower and made his way to the adjoining bathroom, the stone floor cold under his feet. Normally, he'd set a warming charm to it before he got out of bed but today he relished in the icy feeling, it helped ground him. After a quick shower and dressing in his usual black robes that Neville said heavily reminded him of the ones Snape had worn, he set out for the Hall for breakfast.

Reaching the top of the dungeon stairs, the chill of the air left when he stepped into the Entrance Hall. It felt mild - cool, yet still tinged with warmth - and there was a dampness in the air that led Draco to surmise it was currently raining. The Hufflepuff dungeon door opened across the hall and Susan stepped out of it. Her long blonde hair was braided in its usual style down her back and she looked as though she was still half-asleep.

"Morning," Draco called to her, his voice echoing against the stone. Susan startled and looked over to him before giving a sheepish smile.

"Morning, Draco." She stifled a yawn as they met at the door to the Great Hall.

Draco quirked an eyebrow down at her and smirked, "Long night with Longbottom?"

A bright blush quickly covered Susan's face and she waved her hands wildly. Her voice came out in a harsh whisper as she looked up and down the corridor. "Sh! Keep your voice down before someone hears you!"

Draco let out a small huff of a laugh at his friend, thankful to find they were the first ones to breakfast. She and Neville had started dating at the end of term last year, and Draco found every opportunity he could to remind them they were breaking the rules. Professors weren't allowed to date (in case they had a nasty break up and were still forced to work with each other. Apparently, it had happened back in the '40s and caused quite a few broken windows) but Draco would never rat on his friends, he just liked to tease them of it constantly.

The pair walked to the faculty table at the head of the room, sitting down to find a small breakfast spread prepared for them. Draco poured himself a large mug of coffee, sipping it contentedly before piling his plate with a generous portion of eggs and bacon. Gone were the days of his schoolboy gauntness now that he actually ate the meals at Hogwarts. Though he was unusually tall and still somewhat lean, the regular meals and the fact that he was able to fly as much as he wanted, had allowed his body to fill out. Underneath his loose black robes was the body of a well-muscled man - not that he was boasting, of course.

"So." Susan started as she sipped her tea. "What was up with you last night?"

The bacon turned to ash in Draco's mouth and he took a large sip of coffee to get it down. "I don't know what you mean."

"Come on, Draco. You could cut the tension between you and Hermione with a knife. What was up with that? Aren't you guys civil? You and Harry are friends, aren't you?"

"No Potter and I are not friends. I just tolerate his presence because for some reason my oldest friend went and married him. Granger just hates me."

"Not that it's any of my business but did you ever try apologising to her? Like you did for me and Neville?"

Draco's breakfast sat heavily in his stomach, "I've tried to. Several times... but she's just so...so... she's Granger! She'll never accept my apology no matter what I do so I figured why bother, I never thought I'd speak to her ever again, nevermind that we'd fucking work together!" His blood was boiling in his veins and he threw his napkin on his plate, his appetite completely gone. "But you're right, Susan. It is none of your business."

He stood and made to leave but Flitwick and Neville rushed into the hall and joined them at the table, both downing their breakfasts in a rush.

Draco looked over at Neville with a quirked eyebrow as he sat back down, "Important date?"

"The Head of House meeting is in ten minutes!" said Flitwick, before pausing to chug a glass of orange juice. "Neville and I got caught up in a conversation with Hagrid about slug repellant for his giant pumpkins and now we're running late."

Draco sat up straight from his seat, "How come no one told me about the meeting?!"

"Oops..." Susan grimaced next to Neville, "I was supposed to tell you. Sorry, Draco."

"Well, we would've had it last night after dinner like usual, but someone decided to storm out before we could." Neville gave him a pointed look before standing. "Come on, let's go."

Draco glared at the back of the Herbologists head as the group quickly walked through the Entrance Hall, up the staircases to the third floor and down two hallways to the Headmistress's office. Flitwick was panting when he caught up to the back of the group as they came to the Gargoyle statue. Neville called out the password, "Raspberry Marshmallow." and the statue stepped aside, revealing the spiralled staircase.

Susan was the first at the door after they had climbed the stairs, so she rapt her knuckles against it and stepped back when it swung open. They all clamoured inside the circular room, finding McGonagall sitting behind her claw-footed desk. The eyesore that was the Sorting Hat was placed next to her on a stool. She finished her scribbling on a piece of parchment and deftly rolled it up as they neared her desk.

"Thank you all for joining me," she said as she stood. "This will be a quick meeting."

Draco looked over her shoulder to where the portrait of Dumbledore hung. His figure was sitting at a desk, feeding a perched phoenix liquorice snaps. He met Draco's stare, and the Potion Master swore he could see that damned twinkle in his eye as he looked over his half-moon glasses at him.

Next to Dumbledore's painting was Snape's. The painted figure never failed to cause Draco's stomach to lurch every time he looked at it. The ex-death eater was standing next to a bubbling cauldron in his version of the Potions Classroom. It was cluttered and messy, with nothing labelled, which had always driven Draco's well-organized mind crazy. The portrait of Severus was always stirring away and adding various ingredients to the concoction. Never once had he looked up to acknowledge Draco - not that Draco ever tried to get his attention, the very thought of speaking to him made his heart stutter. He was afraid of what would be said - as much as he denied it, he missed his godfather terribly.

McGonagall's emerald green robes swished around the large desk, pulling Draco from his sullen thoughts. She grabbed the Sorting Hat from the stool and approached the group of Professors.

"Who would like to do the sorting this year?" She said without preamble.

Draco pressed his lips together in annoyance. He didn't know why she bothered asking, Neville always did it. Which is exactly what Draco preferred, as he liked to keep to the shadows and away from the spotlight. Neville stepped forward and offered himself as usual but McGonagall shook her head.

"As much as I appreciate your willingness to help, Neville, The Gryffindor Head of House has been doing the sorting for a very long time. I'd like to have another Head do it this year."

"Well, you know I can't," said Flitwick adjusting his glasses and looking all-important. "Since I conduct the Frog Choir."

McGonagall nodded and looked to Susan, who squeaked and held up her hands, "A-as much as I'd love to help, Headmistress, I um. I-I can't, I have a fear of public speaking..."

McGonagall sighed, she glanced over to Draco and his eyes widened.

Oh, no fucking way.

"No." He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at the tattered hat in her hands. "I'm not doing the sorting. Let Longbottom do it, he wants to. No one cares if another Head does it, in fact, I'm sure most of the parents would prefer that I didn't."

Truer words had never been spoken. All the grief McGonagall had been given for allowing Lupin to teach, had nearly doubled when she also allowed a Malfoy into the school faculty. It had taken months of Ministry supervised classes and countless interviews- much to McGonagall's displeasure- for them to trust him enough and allow him to teach. Though, Draco still suspected most of the parents wouldn't care a fig if he got sacked.

McGonagall pressed her lips together and stretched out the hat towards him, "I want another Head to do it and you will do it, Draco. It's either this or you can supervise every single detention this year. There are only 48 first-years this term, it won't take that long."

Draco sneered and snatched the hat from her outstretched grasp. To say he was annoyed was an understatement but he knew there was no arguing with the Headmistress. He certainly did not want to be in charge of detentions all year.

"Fine."

With that, McGonagall went over the timeline for the school year, ignoring the way Draco glowered at her as he gripped the sorting hat, probably tighter than he should have. After nearly an hour, she finally dismissed them and Draco stalked angrily from her office. He half-ran down the spiral staircase, his black robes billowing behind him. He heard Neville and Susan call out for him, but his long legs had already carried him to the second floor by the time they reached the staircases. He just wanted to crawl back to his dungeons for a little while and be left alone until the school was packed full again.

Coming to the bottom of the stairs, he went to the Slytherin Dungeon door and shut it behind him with an echoing boom. The cold air pricked his skin and he took a deep breath, relishing in the chill as it filled his lungs. Tonight was going to be a struggle. He'd be able to push himself through it of course, but knowing that didn't make it any easier.

The tattered hat in his hands suddenly felt very heavy. He walked down the stairs to his Potions Classroom and dropped it on the first desk he saw. Draco walked to his enchanted cabinet at the back of the room, where he kept most of his potions. It was charmed so that it wouldn't open for anyone except him, unless a potion was needed in an emergency. He located a bottle of Draught of Peace and took a small sip, the contents spreading warmth through his body until he felt light and carefree. He stowed the rest of the bottle into his trouser pocket. He was sure he'd need some more before the sorting.

He grabbed the pocket watch from his robes and checked the time. It was nearly nine, still eight hours until the students arrived. Settling himself at his desk, he decided to continue to work on his syllabus. Maybe he'd get to finish the one for the second half of term.

Three hours later, Draco stood and stretched from his desk, trying to work out a kink in his neck. He had worked quickly and had finished all of his preparations for the school year. Most of the older teachers thought it was idiotic to spend time every year creating new lessons, but he liked to keep it fresh for the sake of his own sanity. He couldn't imagine teaching the same thing the exact same way for years on end. He'd go mad.

Deciding he'd go for a quick fly around the quidditch pitch and then come back in for a shower, he accio'd his Nimbus 2001 from his bed-chamber down the hall. It came to a stop just in front of him and Draco grabbed the gleaming black handle. He had never upgraded his broom, even though he could own the whole company if he wanted. He loved his Nimbus, it was one of the only things he had left from his father.

Feeling his blood pumping through his veins at the excitement of being in the air, he raced up the Dungeon stairs. Riding a broom never got old and always made him feel like a child again, how he felt before everything had gone to shit.

Pushing open the wooden door, he stopped dead in his tracks as his eyes landed on a jean and sweater-clad Granger, blocking his path out the main doors. She was standing with McGonagall deeply engrossed in a conversation.

Bollocks, he did not want to deal with that right now. Maybe he could sneak past them and out the Transfiguration Courtyard.

Gently shutting the door behind him, he walked slowly around the staircase and crept along the wall. He was so close to freedom, he just had to turn the corner that led to the Transfiguration corridor. McGonagall's back was to him, and he thanked Merlin for that. He was sure that if the Headmistress had seen him, she would have called him over. He kept his eyes trained on the pair of witches as he walked. He was only a few more steps from turning the corner... Suddenly, Hermione's eyes flickered towards him and he stopped dead in his tracks. His pulse quickened as her eyes narrowed slightly but, to Draco's relief, she looked back to the witch in front of her, just as quickly as she had glanced over at him

Draco stood still for a moment before realizing he had been holding his breath, and he quietly filled his lungs. He felt like a rabbit cornered by a fox. He waited another moment to make sure McGonagall didn't hear him, then quickly shuffled around the corner and out of sight. He let out a shaky breath as the adrenaline in his veins dissipated, and set off out to the courtyard. He mounted his broom quickly and took off into the misty air, heading straight for the quidditch pitch, where he could focus one thing only; flying.

After his steaming hot shower, Draco methodically dressed in his best suit and black robes. Not that the rest of his robes were of inferior quality, as they were all tailor-made for him. Having the best of the best was a trait deeply ingrained in his blood.

He brushed his hair back from his face until he was happy with how it lay on his head. Draco had changed the style a bit over the years but the haircut he had now was his favourite: short on the sides and longer on top. He could admit he was a vain man and thought that pushing his hair back made him look devilishly handsome. He checked his pocket watch, noting that it was just after three-thirty. His stomach twisted into knots, it was time to head up. He left his private quarters and walked past his classroom, having to double back as he realized the Sorting Hat still sat on one of the desks.

Gripping the tattered hat, he climbed the stone stairs and out into the Entrance Hall. Most of the Professors had already gathered and were milling about in various conversations. He spied Neville and Susan near the front and he made his way over to them, making sure to steer clear of Trelawney, lest she thrust another omen at him.

Neville greeted him with a smile and a wave, "Hey, Draco."

"Ready?" Susan asked him as he approached. She was practically glowing with excitement.

Draco tried to sound scathing but it came out as more of a whine, "I don't want to do the sorting. Why couldn't you do it?"

Susan shuffled her feet, her gaze darting around, instantly fascinated with the room at large. Her perusal halted as she spotted something behind him. The witch peeked around Draco and beamed at whoever was behind him. "Hey, Hermione! You look nice."

Draco looked to the vaulted ceiling in a silent plea to Merlin to hex him so he wouldn't have to deal with this. His plea going unanswered, he reluctantly turned to the bushy-haired witch behind him. Except, she wasn't bushy-haired anymore. Instead, her hair had been smoothed and pulled into a fashionably low wavy ponytail. Her face had a hint of makeup - red lips and winged eyeliner - and Draco's eyes nearly popped out of his sockets at her attire.

"What are you wearing?" He muttered before he could stop himself.

He felt his cheeks tinge pink slightly as her unnerving gaze moved to him. She glanced down to her clothes and his eyes followed for the second time. A flowing black button-down blouse draped her torso, which would have been fine, except it was tucked into an extremely tight, form-fitting, maroon pencil skirt. It hugged her shapely bottom and came to a stop just below her knees, leaving the rest of her legs bare.

His eyes continued south and...

Salazar save him, what the actual fuck was know-it-all Hermione Granger doing wearing shoes like that.

Black, pointed pumps encased her feet, made of what looked like suede or maybe velvet, either way, he wanted to reach out and run his fingers over them. The pointed tip of the toebox made the soft shoe seem a little more provocative and the height of the heel... Draco swallowed a lump in his throat, they had to have been at least four inches tall.

Raking his eyes back up her curvy body, Draco suddenly saw Hermione in a new light. Gone was the buck-toothed book-worm he remembered from their school days, though he was sure she was still in there. In her place was a woman that was making his heart beat a little faster in his chest and his trousers tighten slightly.

"You don't like it? Shame. I wore it just for you." Her voice dripped with sarcasm but Draco couldn't stop himself from envisioning all kinds of dirty things that she could do just for him. They were the first words she had spoken to him since she arrived, and he couldn't help but notice that her voice sounded like honey. He could feel his erection growing beneath his robes. What the fuck was happening to him?

Her nose wrinkled in disgust and he scowled back at her, trying to keep his cool facade. No doubt she'd hex him within an inch of his life if she knew what he was thinking. Suddenly, he was shoved out of the way as Susan elbowed him in the stomach and grabbed Hermione's hands. He moved his glare to the blonde, wondering why, exactly, they were friends.

"Ignore him, he's just mad he has to do the sorting. You look great, I look like a potato compared to you."

Neville reached out and poked her arm, "You do not," he whispered so no one but their group would hear. "You look beautiful as always."

Susan blushed and moved back next to Neville and Hermione rounded an incredulous look in Draco's direction.

"You're doing the sorting?"

Draco rolled his eyes and sneered down at her, even with the heels he was still much taller. "Obviously, why would I have the hat otherwise?" He shook the fabric in her face and smirked in satisfaction when she stumbled back a step.

She crossed her arms and looked up at him with a narrowed glare, "Well, I figured McGonagall would have picked someone a little more approachable and nice when doing something as scary as being sorted. But really, I'm just shocked you know how to read."

Draco blinked at Hermione's words. He didn't know whether to laugh or feel offended. "Excuse me?" He let a wicked smile stretch across his face as he stepped closer to the witch. "I'm as cuddly as a kneazle kitten."

Hermione scoffed. "I highly doubt that."

Draco let out a low hum and stepped even closer to her, their arms brushing slightly. He loomed over her so much she had to crane her neck to look up at his face. He wanted to toy with her, to make her feel as uncomfortable as he was feeling, looking at her in those damned shoes. His breath came out in a low and heated whisper, "Would you like to find out?"

A crimson blush bloomed over Hermione's neck and cheeks, nearly matching the colour of her skirt. Draco grinned down at her and let out a sharp laugh as she opened and closed her mouth, obviously trying to find a retort that didn't involve any sexual innuendos. He glanced behind him at Neville and Susan thinking they would share his amusement but instead, they were both looking at him with wide eyes.

Hermione, to Draco's disappointment, was saved any further embarrassment as McGonagall approached them with a roll of parchment. She held it out for Draco to take.

"The list of first years. Do you have the hat? Oh good." She sounded nervous but turned to address the rest of the faculty. Her voice instantly switched to the familiar commanding tone that echoed against the stone, "Everyone ready?"

All the Professors nodded excitedly and Draco's stomach began to twist as he realized he was about to be the first one to greet a bunch of eleven-year-olds. He could hear the loud, boisterous conversations as students neared the castle. The older ones would arrive first, as the first-years would still be on the boats with Hagrid.

With a flick of her wand, McGonagall opened the large doors, allowing the new year to begin.