a/n: This whole chapter in going to be from Draco's p.o.v just to spice thing up a bit and show you Draco's perspective of things. Also, thank you to all of you who followed and favorited the story. Love you! But please please review! You know how I love those reviews ;)

Chapter 7

Draco sat alone at the Slytherin table, reading a book and barely touching his breakfast. Sadly, not many of the Eighth year Slytherin students had come back to redo their seventh year. Many of them were left parent-less due to their parents being Death Eaters, and chose to make a new life for themselves instead of going back to Hogwarts. Draco missed his friends, he missed having people to talk to, people who understood him. Of course, the person he felt that most understood him was sitting on the other side of the Great Hall, but he couldn't very well just go and talk to them at the moment, or at all for that matter. Draco missed Hermione. A lot. He missed their midnight talks. He missed her laugh. He missed those times when they were both rolling around the floor of the Library, laughing so hard no voice came out, gasping for air and trying to quiet themselves as to not get caught. Well, it didn't do well to dwell on the past. Not that the future looked very promising. Draco planned on finishing school and moving somewhere, possibly Germany or France, somewhere no one knew him or his father. He needed to get away from this life, from all the memories of his father and of the Dark Lord. Of course, he knew moving away wouldn't make the nightmares go away. But he was hoping those would pass eventually as well.

Draco looked up from his book and threw a scornful glance at his breakfast. Normally, he would wolf down his french toast and sausages but it didn't seem like it was worth the time and energy and anyway, Draco wasn't hungry. He carefully slipped a bookmark into his book and stood up. He caught Hermione's eye as he walked past the Gryffindor table on his way out of the Great Hall. He held her gaze for a moment until Ron punched her in the arm and she turned back to her friends, the serious face that had met his turning into a smile. 'It doesn't matter, in a year you'll be gone from here for good, and you won't remember any of these people,' Draco reminded himself. He headed down towards the Slytherin dorms. Most people probably thought the Slytherin dorms were depressing, what with them being in the dungeons and all. But in reality, most of the Slytherins felt perfectly at home there. They had a certain refreshing atmosphere about them, though that probably had to do with the chilly air of being underground. There were a few students in the common room, mostly ones that needed to finish homework or others that needed to prepare themselves for another day full of noisy, dim-witted students.

Draco entered his dorm, a nice, neat and quiet room. He just stood there for a moment, thankful for this one place where he could just be with himself and his thoughts. Since many of the Slytherins hadn't come back to Hogwarts, Draco had this dorm all to himself. On the first day back at Hogwarts, Slughorn had asked all of the Eighth years which one of them wanted his/her own dorm. Many students had raised their hands, but quickly brought them back down when they saw Draco's hand raised. It seemed he still had that effect on people, a Malfoy trait given to him by his father. Draco climbed onto his bed, suddenly feeling his eyes heavy with lack of sleep. He decided to let them close for just a moment. Surely, a little rest would be enough to hold him through the rest of the day.

Not less than twenty minutes later, Draco was hurrying down the hall to the Potions classroom, cursing himself for letting himself fall asleep. As he neared the classroom, he slowed down and caught his breath. Then, he cautiously opened the door and stepped inside. He was greeted with the sound of boiling potions and staring faces. He felt his face go hot and he quickly looked down and clenched his fists, feeling his nails digging into his skin. "Hello Draco, come in quickly, please. We are brewing Shrinking Solution. Grab some ingredients from the table and begin," Slughorn said in his thick voice and continued to amble around the room, peering down at the student's cauldrons. Draco picked the required ingredients and settled at a table occupied by two Seventh year students and Seamus Finnigan. Draco started boiling water in his cauldron and already felt himself start to relax. He opened his book and flipped through the pages until he got to the right page. He skimmed through the instructions. It looked easy enough. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work. As he was chopping some daisy roots, Draco looked up and glanced around the room. Finnigan looked like he was having a particularly hard time. Draco snorted to himself. If Snape was here he would be horrified at who Slughorn had let continue to N.E.W.T level. The room began to fill with the tangy smell of the potion and Draco reminded himself that he was behind most of the students. He quickly dropped the daisy roots into the cauldron and noted with satisfaction how they dissolved into the liquid, just like the book said they should. He was Draco Malfoy after all, and although many things had changed after the war, he still remained the Prince of Potions.

Later that day, Draco was sitting around one of the tables in the library, hunched over his Transfiguration homework. He brushed his hand through his hair with exasperation, wondering to himself why he ever felt the need to continue with this subject to N.E.W.T level. Of course, he knew exactly the reason why he picked it. He remembered Lucius's exact words that afternoon before he left for his fifth year at Hogwarts: "You will take after me Draco, I know it. You must focus on nothing but studying this year, and only then will you succeed as I did. Don't let anyone distract you from your goal, Draco. You are a Malfoy, and Malfoys strive for the best." He shook the memory from his head. It didn't matter why he picked it, he was stuck with it now and he needed to finish this damn essay. "Struggling over Transfiguration, are you?" Draco looked up to see Hermione settling in the seat across from him. "That was one nasty essay, but I managed to finish it during lunch. Need any help?" Draco wondered how one person managed to annoy him so much yet make his breath catch in his throat at the same time. Hermione was such a bloody Gryffindor, yet he knew she didn't mean it. "No thanks," he replied. Hermione looked as if he wanted to press the subject so Draco quickly asked: "You have the book?"

"Yeah, I've got it right here," she said as she reached into the pocket of her robe and took out the leathery book. She placed it on the table and opened to the page where they last finished. They got to work, taking notes of important facts and discussing ideas. Draco let Hermione do most of the talking, throwing in a comment here and there when it deemed necessary. He studied her face, the way her eyes glittered when she discovered something new, they way she bit her lips when she was concentrating on something. It took his mind off the nervousness of being near her for so long.

"We made some good progress," Hermione said, closing the book. "Yeah," Draco said.

"We'll probably have to meet only one more time to finish everything and then that's it."

"Sounds good."

"Well, um, I can't tomorrow, I promised Harry I'd help him with something. Errr... Do you remember when we're supposed to turn this in?"

"I'm pretty sure next Thursday."

"Oh, then we're in no hurry. Can you meet on Sunday?"

Hmm, could he meet on Sunday? It's just, he had so many other plans it was hard to keep track.

"Sure, I can meet on Sunday."

"Great. 11:00 work?"

"Yeah, 11:00's fine."

"Great," Hermione said, cracking a smile as she stood up.

Draco managed something close to a smile, and turned to retrieve his barely written Essay. "Actually, um, can I talk to you?" Hermione seemed nervous. She was pulling at the ends of her hair and her eyes seemed anxious. Draco shrugged and she sat back down. He tried to calm his nerves but his mind was going in all directions. He clenched his fists, his nails fitting into their usual spot in his skin. "I don't really know how to start," Hermione said and chuckled nervously. "Do you remember our last conversation? I mean, obviously not the one from two minutes go. Our last real conversation." Draco looked at her blankly. "Not really." Ha, that's funny. "You were in the bathroom, you were crying. I came in after you, and you showed me..."

"Yes, yes, I remember, no need to relieve all the details," Draco cut her off. He began to feel a slight tension in his chest. "Yeah, well, we haven't really talked since then," Hermione said, her eyes earnest and dark. "I just thought, I mean, a lot has happened since then, but that shouldn't mean..."

"Hey, sorry to interrupt, I just really need to run to the toilet. Okay?"

"Errr, oka..."

"Be right back." And he bolted.

Draco ran to the nearest bathroom, locked himself in a stall and vomited right into the toilet. He stood there, chest heaving and eyes squeezed shut. He could taste the rotten remains of vomit in his mouth. Draco opened the door and went to wash himself by the sink. He stared at himself in the mirror, disgusted by the way his mouth was twitching and his eyes were beginning to water. He roughly wiped away his tears and slid to the floor, slumping against the wall.