Chapter Two:
Seering pain. That is all I feel. Draco is on the brink of death and there is nothing I can do about it. He refused his father again. I know it. The Serpentine Family and the Death Eaters are mortal enemies and his father knows it. Draco made his choice, and no matter how excruciating the punishment is, he shall never beg for his life. I love him for that.
I wince as a feeling of a knife plunging through my chest reaches me once more. As a reflex, I grab the necklace and squeeze it with each stab at Draco. My mother looks at me questionably, but is wise not to ask. She has learned never to ask of my condition, it only brings a fight worse than a shouting match, emotional blows that can never be cured.
I am apparating to the train station, on my way to hell. Hogwarts is no longer the safe haven it once was. Exchange students are coming, and they are not going to help my situation.
Half an hour later, I am steading my purse and pushing the trolley towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Leaning against it casually, I quickly fall through the seemingly solid wall. My mother has just dropped me off, seeing as how Harry and Ron would question about how I look nothing like her.
Where is my father in all this? Dead. Murdered while working with the Order alongside Lily and James Potter. I shall always hold a grudge against them for not warning him of the Death Eater approaching swift and silent as the snake he is. I laugh silently at the irony of it all.
That's when I see him, Draco Malfoy... limping? Oh god. I walk in his direction, but not making it seem like I am heading towards him. He's grown taller, about six foot one by now. I look at his knee and see that his black pants are unnoticably growing a stain of blood upon it, unnoticably to anyone but me. A closer look and I notice his action of clutching his right shoulder, the location of his symbol.
I search through my purse and open the pocket mirror I have brought with me. Reflecting it towards my neck, I see that the concealer charm is working perfectly. The symbol is nowhere to be seen.
Finding I can do nothing for him without seeming suspicious, I walk away, dissapointed.
That's when I see it. A flash of violently red hair that anyone can distinguish. Ron.
"Hermione! Where have you been! We've been searching all over for you!" I look at his lopsided grin and freckled face. Next to him is Harry, same happiness, but a more mature smile. The war has taken away his youth and replaced it with the young adult before me. Sirius would have been proud.
"I just got hereRon. I was running a bit late." I respond, though, with much less enthusiasm. These two people can never understand me. Oh how I wish that my 'murder' never occured. I need my old friends, my old boyfriend.
"Oh okay. Let's get a seat before they all run out!" He points towards the steaming scarlet train.
I nod and follow their actions of walking upon the demon. Nothing has changed on this train since my first year. The same plump, elderly witch pushing the food trolley down the corridors. The same compartments with glass doors and surprisingly soft benches. At least the drive to hell will be somewhat pleasent.
The traditional compartment at the back is our destination. Secluded, but Draco always seems to locate it. How depressing. Already there is Dean Thomas, Ginny Weasley, and Neville Longbottom.
Dean Thomas. He has notcibaly gotton handsomer over the summer. Taller, has some muscle, and his dark hair is about as messy as Harry's, but not quite. True, I harbor a crush for the boy, but I would never try my luck with him. One heartbreak is enough.
Taking my seat across Ginny, next to Dean, on the window seat, I listen, but do not participate in a conversation about their summers. Mine was terrible as usual. Visits from Draco and Blaise to my manor did not help the situation at all. Narcissa and Sonya (Blaise's mother) were pleasent enough, for my mother. Despite our spats, I hone a love for her that shall never extinguish. She is all I have left, but she will never understand me.
I am perfectly happy in my state of silence, but someone just has to break it.
"Well well well. Isn't it Potty, Weasle, and Mudblood! They have new friends too!" Draco.
I turn towards him with death in my eyes, wanting so badly to hurt him, but not to at the same time. That's when the most unlikely person comes to my aid.
"You're one to talk! At least we are decent people. Not like you, a Death Eater wannabe who has never loved anything but himself!" Dean, I pity you and admire you for making such a bold move. That will most likely get you killed or threatened.
"You know nothing about me Thomas. Say that one more time and you will wish that your mother never conceived you." His voice is dangerously low, that is not a good sign.
"And what could you possibly do to me?" Dean, you are a true Gryffindor.
"More than you think possible." With that, he leaves. The fire in his eyes reminds me so much of his father, of Lucius. Draco promised me that he would never be anything like his father, but most promises are never kept, especially those made towards the dead.
Dean looks towards me caringly. He puts a hand upon mine, bringing me out of my thoughts. I am in shock. What would cause him to make such a bold move? Oh god. He has feelings for me. This will most definitely complicate things.
"Thank you for defending us." I manage to choke out. I say us instead of me in case I'm mistaken. When I look towards the other's reactions, I realize that my assumption is correct. Ginny is smiling triumphantly and the rest have knowing smiles upon their faces.
"It was nothing Hermione." His voice is so quiet so deep. It reminds me of... no nevermind. They are two completely different people.
"Oh no! I'm going to miss the prefect meeting!" I blurt out suddenly, standing up. Dean looks dissapointed. This was the last option I had to get out of this situation. "Ron, we're going to be late!"
"Oh, Hermione, didn't I tell you? I was stripped of my prefect status because I was abusing it." Ron smiles sheepishly and lowers his gaze to the ground. I should have known.
"Well, then who is going to replace you?" I look towards everyone, desperate for an explanation, but he answers.
"I am Hermione." Dean speaks happily, dissapointment dissapating. Just what I need.
"I guess we should go then." I wave slightly towards everyone and as the sliding glass door closes, I hear the gossip concerning Dean and I. Guess who starts the conversation? I shall murder Ginerva.
Of course a silent walk towards the Prefect's compartment doesn't content him.
"Is being a prefect difficult?" He says it in a way that fakes interest, just to speak to me. He 'accidentally' brushes my hand with his again and again. Damn boys and their raging hormones.
"It isn't difficult if you have the respect of the students." I'm not lying. Why do you think the Slytherins always get their way? Well, not exactly out of respect, more out of fear.
"And I suppose you do?" He asks jokingly. Maybe he isn't so bad. No. Bad Sierra, bad Sierra. You love Draco, remember?
"Who would respect the school bookworm. I'm mostly invisible to the students." I respond in mock sadness.
"I respect you." I can't believe he fell for it. Draco never would have.
"Why?" Yes, why?
"Because you're beautiful and brilliant." Smooth Dean. I'll give you points for that.
"Thank you." Nothing more is said and we have arrived in front of the Prefects' domain. More like the Prefects' lair. I tuck my necklace within my blouse. No one can see it.
Dean allows me to walk before him. Sorry, but polite gestures do not work on me.
Inside is Draco, Pansy, Daphne, Blaise, and some other people from different houses. I wonder who Head Boy and Girl are? Yes, the great and fake Hermione Granger was not made Head Girl and I am glad. Even more responsibility is the last thing I need right now.
What do you know? The last seat is right next to Draco. As you can tell, I am just jumping for joy. If anything strange happens in front of him... well, think of the consequences. At least Dean is left to stand. Ahh, I miss being evil.
That's when the least four people that I would ever want to see, walk in. Well, if I know them (which I do) the girls sashay in while the guys strut. Say hello to my friends.
Cleo, short for Cleopatra. The leader of us all. I admit that my appearence was ripped off hers. Only it looks so much more better on her. The tanned skin shows the egyptian princess she is. The golden brown hair that shines so brightly in the sunlight peeking through the windows. The hazel eyes that can twinkle with happiness or darken with anger. I admire her. She is the best dancer I have ever come across. She flows like water to the beats, knowing when and how to move. The goddess of dancing. She is so much like Ralpha that they seem perfect for each other. Despite this, she firmly denies it.
Ralpha, real name Raphael. The one who would do anything for Cleo. He loves her, but she finds him obnoxious. Ah well, one day, he will prove her wrong. His attitude is what all should beware. I remember a time when a boy insulted him about his heritage. He went up to him and whispered in his ear. We don't know what he said, but all we know is that the boy went running for his life. I really don't want to know what he told him. A true mexican, english is a second language, and most girls adore his accent. Unfortunately for them, he only has eyes for Cleo. Speaking of his eyes, they are jet black and show absolutely no emotion. It's amazing actually. His hair is black as a moonless night and his skin is a perfect shade of brown.
Francesca. A shy and beautiful girl from Spain. She has the voice of angels, but doesn't realize it. She is the most modest of the group, the opposite of Cleo who is wild and up to any challenge. Her wavy hair is the strangest color. Blue black. It depends on the way the light shines. Her eyes are a violent violet. We all used to say that. A smile for all, but do not doubt her ability to fight. If you push her right, well, she says things that makes me Ralpha shudder. (That's saying a lot.) As simple as her comebacks are, they can really emotionally damage you. Trust me, I know. Did I mention that she is the Queen of Saracasm? No? Well, it's true. Speaks Spanish as well as Ralpha and they have been known to have their argument in that language while the rest struggle to understand.
Matthew. The first friend I had ever made. A paternal twin to Francesca. Most likely the most protective older brother (by two minutes as Francesca insists) in the entire world. He is the one to throw out jokes at random moments, most are so clever you wonder where they come from. He is the peacemaker... and the war starter. He judges no one, but holds grudges that may last for years until the person apologizes sincerely, more like begs for forgivness. Draco experienced that first hand, not a pretty sight. Fluent in Spanish, French, and Italian. He studied all the Romance languages. Oh did I mention latin? He curses in random tounges and you wonder which one it is. He has straight black hair that is usually spiked and really dark blue eyes.
Did you notice that lack of last names? For some reason, they all choose to keep it a secret and those who find out are sworn to secrecy. I am one of those people. How do I know all these things when I've been forbidden to stay out of contact with them? Well, I have my spies in the walls. More like a lot of charms on my viper to stalk them. Hey, I need to know some things about my friends or I might die of isolation.
Well, of course as they walk in, they have to make a big deal about it.
"What no special announcment? No drumroll? This is total BS." Yep, that's Ralpha for you, doesn't give a shit if a Professor hears him. Get my point?
"You know, the world doesn't revovle around you Ralpha." Cleo comments. Here we go again.
"Before we go into this whole 'You're so immature' deal can I just say that you both act like five year olds." One point for Matthew, zero for the dynamic fighting duo.
"Am I aloud to speak?" Ralpha needs his spotlight back.
"Go ahead, no one stopping you." Matthew sounds like a psychiatrist.
Ralpha turns to Cleo and says, "You know you want me."
"Shut the hell up." Throughout this whole ordeal, everyone is silent wondering what in the world is going on. That's when the realize they're not the only ones alive.
"Oh, umm... what's up?" Matthew begins.
"Our names are not really important right now as they are about to be announced in two seconds." Cleo says.
And what do you know?
"Ralpha, Cleo, Matthew, Francesca?" Thank you for being so predictable Blaise, I applaud you.
"Told you so."
While everyone is reuniting, Francesca's eyes land on me. It's unnerving. She stares at me for a while until Matthew drags her into the conversation. I owe him so much.