Summary:

The Harry Potter 7th years are returning for their last year at school, with a little more than magic on their minds, such as the tremendous war between The Dark Lord and the Order. So it would strike the HP7Y's as odd when one of the Dark Lord's most faithful supporter's son shows up, pretending to have changed. Especially since Draco Malfoy had been expelled the year before, and had very narrowly murdered Albus Dumbledore. Even more surprising is the fact that Malfoy had seemed to take an odd interest in one of the biggest members of the Order. Hermione Granger.

Chapter Rating: T

Summary of chapter: The HPY7's random thoughts, focusing on Malfoy's, Hermione's and Harry's. This chapter is very important to the story take note!

Disclaimer: I've signed a legal document. I'm seriously not her.

(new feature!) Last Chapter: Harry's knees wobbled with relief.

'Not bad, not bad at all.' Mr. Weasley said, eyeing him carefully.

'Ginny's done it, and got there too I bet!' Harry snapped indignantly.

'She'd better have, this being her forty-sixth time and all!' Mr. Weasley responded.

Harry covered his mouth, unable to hide the smirk that crept towards his face.

Chapter 5

Mr. Weasley yanked Harry's hand, dragging Harry towards himself.

Harry flinched visibly at Mr. Weasley's harsh touch, but allowed himself to be hurried away from Borgin and Burkes.

'Uh, sir? Where are we going?' Harry asked, trying to keep up with Mr. Weasley's pace. Mr. Weasley turned into a dark alleyway, before dropping Harry's hand.

'Specialis Revelio!' He said, pointing violently at a dustbin.

The poor object was knocked to the ground, before righting itself.

'Good.' Mr. Weasley nodded. 'Harry, I wished to talk with you in private. I apologize for whatever inconvience this may have caused to you,' he said, pointing to Harry's sore wrist.

'Harry, the world is not safe. With Dumbledore's apparent 'disappearance', You-Know-Voldemort is feeling eighteen years younger. He feels safe in knowing that your protector is dead. He will do whatever it takes to kill you. Neither can live while the other survives. Harry, he will kill you! Unless, someone does it first.' Mr. Weasley stated ominously.

Harry gulped, before squinting at Mr. Weasley.

'Ah, I'd almost forgotten. Hang on to me, Harry.' Mr. Weasley said.

'Proverbia!' Mr. Weasley said loudly and clearly.

'There's a spell?' Harry asked, looking confused.

'You should know by know that you do not always need wands to perform magic, Harry. Being a wizard contains so much other important things.' Mr. Weasley trailed off, as the foul smelling air began to speed away, to be replace by the stinging sensation of revisiting the past. Harry span around nervously as he saw Cho's face looming over to kiss him, Hermione rolling her eyes as Ron and Harry looked at her expectantly, Malfoy twitching around nervously, and finally, the Burrow.

His eyes shot open as he fell down on Mrs. Weasley's old shag rug.

'Harry!' A gleeful Hermione squealed.

'About time you got here, mate.' Ron held back a grin.

Mrs. Weasley enveloped him in a full embrace, and Harry could just glimpse Ron smirking evilly.

'Lord, you're thin.' Mrs. Weasley tutted, while helping Harry to an enormous serving of steak and kidney pie.

'Mum's been cooking up a feast.' Ron stated seriously, before punching Harry on the shoulder.

Harry smirked as he watched Mrs. Weasley plonk potato goulash onto his plate. He was home.

Hermione frustatedly banged her head onto the pile of books.

There was no way she was going to ever properly perform an Imperio curse. Who did Mr. and Mrs. Weasley think she was.

'Hermione, you're the cleverest witch in the school! Stop beating yourself up over something any good person can't do!' Ginny had remarked to Hermione, punching her shoudler playfully.

Hermione had smiled softly, rubbing her shoulder. Why couldn't she do it? Loads of people had done it already! She'd bet Malfoy had, being the slimy, death-eater git he was.

This thought surprised her. Malfoy? Malfoy was gone. The only unpleasant memories that came up was that it was going to be very different now that Malfoy had gone AWOL.

So why was she thinking of him? There were some things Hermione would never know.

She scratched her quill absentmindedly into a piece of paper, doodling the twelve uses of Dragon's blood. She'd just gotten to"important in many different potions" beforeGinny stepped into the room.

'Hermione!' She squealed. 'Harry's finally here!' Hermione tossed her quill onto the floor, rushing past Ginny as she pushed the door open. She had to welcome her best friend.

Malfoy tapped his quill impatiently against a piece of brand-new, creamy parchment. He obviously wasn't going to be doing his N.E.W.Ts anyway, the Dark Lord should have pieced together his plans by then. So why the hell was he doing his homework? He thought furiously, while struggling to remember the twelve uses of Dragon's Blood. He had a fleeting notion of popping round to Pansy's to ask her, but then realized that she'd most probably bash him over the head.

'Dumbass.' She'd snap, while easily and leisurely scribing the twelve uses in straight calligraphy.

Draco mussed his hair, while poking the quill through the pewter desk. His mother strode in, and wrinkled her nose.

'Homework, my dear boy? Nonsense! Gertha!' She cried. A house-elf appeared from behind a bookcase, wrapped in swaddling blankets. 'Fetch Horst!' Narcissa snarled.

Gertha rushed off, appearing a few seconds later with a tall, buxom woman.

Horst. Draco felt his mouth go dry, and his skin heat up. Horst was Narcissa's personal assistant for a year running. She was blonde, and fantasically gorgeous, in a beckoning, almost inviting way. She was about twenty, and Draco had an enormous fancy for her. Unfortunately, she was at his beck and call, and detested him for it.

'Horst, please complete Master Draco's homework, now!' Narcissa commanded. Draco tried to give Horst an encouraging look, but she practically stuck her middle finger up at him before gracefully seating herself on the warm chair his butt had just occupied.

Narcissa extended her finger towards him, curving it to her, indicating for him to come.

He grudgingly walked up to her.

'Yes mother?' He said.

'It is time to pack your things. There are somethings we do not want the servants to see, so you will do your trunks yourself. Understood?' She inquired of him.

'I suppose so.' He said, nonchalantly.

'Yes who?' She prompted.

'Yes mother.' He said, seething. She spun around and walked briskly down the marble floors.

Draco stalked off behind her, leaving Horst to silently complete his homework.

'Quis est non veneficus mereo mereor morior.' He chanted, trying his hardest to refrain from performing the spell.

A/N-Props to anyone who can translate the above! If you can guess what it does, you'll have a pretty good idea of why it's so hard for Draco to refrain from performing it!

Sorry for such a short chappie, but I'm not motivated without reviews! (Just kidding!)