AN: Hurrah for two chapters in seven hours! Really, I should be training right now but I wanted to get this chapter over and done with just to see how you lot would react (if there's even a 'lot'). I guess I've sort of, kinda figured out how I want this to go. And as I said in my profile, my writing is kinda rusty as I haven't written anything in such a long time, being too occupied with college and having no ideas for a decent story and all. Basically I just typed and typed and typed and voila! Chapter 2! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Oh, right. We all know J.K. Rowling owns the characters and the whole idea of Hogwarts and the Wizarding World and I love her for that.

Draco Malfoy hated change. Especially if it meant his life taking a complete turn with his father in Azkaban, his mother on house arrest and him an outcast. Narcissa thought it was best for her son to repeat his seventh year in Hogwarts given the quality of education the preceding year. Not to mention he was plotting for You Know Who at that time. Of course, his mother would rather go with the first reason. He knew she was broken when Lucius Malfoy, once a feared pureblood in the Wizarding World, was sentenced to life imprisonment in Azkaban. And she still had nightmares about The Dark Lord, he knew. He still did as well. He was still haunted by the past year's events that he couldn't say the name everyone used to fear and everytime someone else uttered it, he would cringe. At least not a lot of people said the name, most just wanted to forget, he reckoned. He wanted to forget. But things were not going back to how they were. Most students who decided to go back for their last year of school were Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. The few Slytherins wanted nothing to do with him and he couldn't care less about students from Hufflepuff.

He decided to be discreet during his last year, to get the NEWTs over and done with, to avoid trips to Hogsmeade, to keep to himself for the rest of the year. But he just had to be assigned as Head Boy and what's worse, he had to work with a certain bushy-haired, pathetic mudblood. Though he himself noticed how her hair was a lot tamer but still quite unruly, and she had grown a bit taller and her features more mature, he wouldn't admit it, even to himself. It seemed like her looks were the only thing he could hold against her (and even that was proving to be a lot harder): he couldn't call her dumb because she obviously wasn't or say any other negative thing about her because everyone loved the "brains" of the Golden Trio. And she was looking quite well so really, what else could he do as her mortal enemy but to try to annoy her as much as he can? Merlin knows it was the only way he could tolerate a couple of months surrounded by Potter worshippers. It was horrible.

"Malfoy," Granger spat as she entered the common room they were supposed to share as Head Boy and Head Girl.

"Granger."

"I'll be in my room." She sniffed as she crossed over to the left, her trunk floating behind her.

"Suit yourself," he muttered and sprawled onto the couch.

"Draco."

The mention of his name woke him up. Did the mudblood just call him by his first name?

"What do you want, Gra-Mother?"

"Hello Draco."

"Mother, what are you doing here?"

"I have news, my boy."

His mother looked awful. She was paler than when he last saw her and a lot thinner, too. Her eyes were sinking and bloodshot. Gone was the elegant woman who stood by her husband, emitting the same aura he did. He was locked up and so was the life in her eyes and the grace in her posture. Broken, she was.

"What news? How important could it be that you would risk your life, escaping house arrest and coming here? Mother, they might send you to Azkaban!" He didn't want to say it, it simply fueled his fear but he needed to make her understand how serious the situation was going to get if anyone caught her.

"Oh what does it matter? They can send me to Azkaban! They can execute me too! I don't care! No! Not when he's… gone."

Tears streaked Narcissa Malfoy's face, despair shook her shoulders. "My poor Lucius, my dear husband, gone…"

"Gone? Father? What do you mean?" Draco's blood ran cold. Of course he knew what his mother meant. His father…

"Dead. He's dead, Draco. Your father's dead!"

"H-how?"

"The Kiss. He's dead. My poor Lucius is dead. The dementors… my husband is gone. He's dead. Your father is dead! Dead…"

And his mother repeated the word over and over again, even when he asked-begged-her to stop.

"Lucius is dead. Dead, dead. Draco, your father is dead… The Kiss… Dead…"

Then a hooded figure materialized through the walls and drew closer to Narcissa, who was too blinded by her tears to notice anything.

"Mother!" Draco called out as the dementor gained in on the only person he could call family. But no sound came out. He clutched at his throat. His lips moved but his voice was gone. His mother was in hysterics, the dementor was inches away from her and Draco was powerless. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move…

His eyes flew open, his heart racing, faster than when his father's verdict was read, as he realized it wasn't real. Just a dream. His mother was at the Manor. His father at Azkaban, alive albeit miserable. But at that moment, all that mattered was that they were alive. No dementors, no-

Then he heard it. Sobbing.

Was his mother there after all?

He frantically looked around. No sign of a blonde woman anywhere. Then who was crying? As far as he knew, it was only him and… Could it be?

He pushed himself off the couch, still a bit rattled by the dream. He headed to the Head Girl's side of the room, an oak door separating it from the common room. He leaned in and sure enough, he heard her whimpers through the door although he could tell she was trying her best to keep it down. He didn't understand. Why would Hermione Granger be crying? It wasn't like her parents were in danger like his were. Potter won, Weasley was okay, most of her friends survived… he didn't understand at all.

He thought it was probably best to leave her alone. If she was trying to keep the crying to a minimum then he was sure she didn't want him to hear. And so reluctantly, he turned around and wandered to his own room, worried about his parents and though he wouldn't admit it to himself just yet, worried about her.

If anyone's even reading this, then a review or two would be much appreciated!

Muchos gracias!

Much love,

J