Author's Note: I'm sorry if I didn't make Hermione, Ginny, Harry, or Draco act/sound like themselves in the first chapter. Hopefully, this is better.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter series.

"Draco Malfoy?!"

Draco whipped around to find a young woman staring at him incredulously. She looked oddly familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

Oh well, he thought. Probably one of those Slytherin girls I had a fling with.

He ignored her, and took a swig of his Firewhisky. He liked the burning sensation it created in the pit of his stomach, letting him forget all of his troubles.

Then the woman shrugged, turned away, and returned to sipping her butterbeer. She wrestled a huge book out of the small bag she was carrying and turned to the page her bookmark was stuck to. Draco was close enough to see what it was called—A Storm of Swords, by some fellow named George.

And then it dawned on him. This girl was Hermione Granger—the Mudblood that he'd hated for seven years. She still had the same drab, crap-colored hair, lack of fashion, and her nose was always somehow buried in a book. Were the pages glued to her? Merlin.

Draco stared at her for two minutes in shock, but Granger didn't look back at him. Her eyes were stuck to the page in front of her, eyes moving left to right at an alarming speed.

"It's you, Mudblood."

Granger didn't reply. So he repeated, a little louder, "Mudblood."

Finally she looked up.

"Granger, what are you reading that's gotten you so interested?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't. I'm merely asking. You're still the same stuck-up, neurotic Gryffindor brat I cursed with buck teeth during fourth year." He sneered at her with no remorse.

Granger spat back at him, "And you're still the cowardly, arrogant brute that Buckbeak attacked during third year. I can see that you're still incredibly dense-"

Now that was a blow to his pride. Draco didn't like being reminded of past memories. Especially the bad ones. He chose to ignore the Buckbeak comment, and replied back to her, smugly, "I finished only second to you for the O.W.L.s."

Granger huffed and moved to a different spot.

He decided that he didn't have the time and energy to deal with Granger's shit, and so he left the Leaky Cauldron to go to Diagon Alley, where he wandered around aimlessly for several hours.

All the colors and cheerfulness of area annoyed Draco. Why was everyone so happy?

Teenagers in robes huddled in groups, chatting about the latest gossip. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor seemed especially busy today. The Weasle twins' shop were crammed with children.

Draco's father, Lucius, had become a new member of a secret organization, which was recently discovered by the Ministry. Thank Merlin Draco wasn't part of that, so he knew nothing about it. He had had enough of his father's schemes, but somehow he just couldn't break apart from them. He knew Lucius didn't care for him as much as he did fifteen years ago, but it made no difference. Blood prejudice was an inherited trait in his family, and his father had ingrained it into Draco's mind permanently.

After that Battle of Hogwarts, both father and son had served their fair share in Azkaban. It had been a tough nine years.

Draco's mother, on the other hand, was becoming more and more aloof each passing day. After he was released from Azkaban, Narcissa had once tried to set her son up with the younger Greengrass daughter, Astoria, claiming that they went well together. She convinced many women—Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, Tracy Davis, and even went as far as Millicent Bulstrode. However, Draco wasn't fooled. His mother now isolated herself in one of the bedrooms of the Malfoy Manor and refused to eat and talk. He couldn't blame her. All the years of being a Death Eater and the chronically worried mother of a young wizard who had joined the Dark Side had taken its toll on Narcissa.

Draco was on his own.

The Slytherin "friends" he had had all abandoned him and started leading their own perfectly normal lives. They had their own jobs and families to care about, not Draco.

He moved over to a bench in the corner of Diagon Alley and pulled out a letter from his pocket. It was a thick, cream-colored parchment that had arrived via owl a few weeks ago. He reread it:

"Dear Mr. Malfoy,

We are offering you a position as Potions master in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We have noticed your talent in brewing potions, especially Polyjuice Potions and various healing concotions. The latest professor has moved to France two days ago to start a wizarding chess institute.

Many of the students at Hogwarts overlook the fact that you were one a Death Eater, but I know that you have changed since your time in Azkaban. We are entrusting you with the safety, academic and social growth of the next generation of witches and wizards. We sincerely hope that you will accept this position.

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall,

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Draco gingerly folded the letter and returned it to his pocket. He scowled, got up from the bench, and Apparated to Malfoy Manor.

Immediately after Malfoy left the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione scowled. Damn him, that putrid bastard. She despised him more than ever. Malfoy was still an arrogant, disgusting, insufferable git. He hadn't changed at all in the ten years.

But then again, he had his own problems. He could deal with his, she could deal with hers. Right now, she had to focus on getting ready for tomorrow, which was the first day of her teaching job. Hermione didn't have any experience with children, and she wasn't exactly excited, and she didn't want any possible students to overtake her in academic studies. Who knew if there was an especially clever student whom she would have to deal with?

Hermione left the bar through the back and entered Diagon Alley, which was teeming and alive with colors and faces. Small children ran rampant throughout the area, running in and out of the shops. One almost knocked her over.

"Merlin. I certainly hope I won't be teaching first or second years," she muttered to herself, before entering Gringotts.

It was July, and Draco wasn't coping well with the weather. One day, it was too hot, the other it was too cold. Wiltshire was definitely not a comfortable place to live, and he wasn't doing anything to help himself. Draco sat around, slept around, and lived a tremendously tedious life.

He got up from green-and-silver covered couch in the living room and staggered to the bathroom. A nice morning shave needed to happen, so Draco raised his wand, rasped "Tondesco," and the stubble from his face disappeared. How did Muggles manage to shave without using any magic? Idiots.

Draco disliked children. He chuckled and fondly remembered the first time he had insulted Potter and his two pathetic followers. He had faintly remembered the Weasel trying to curse him and having the curse backfire, resulting in the stupid git vomiting slugs. He had laughed his insides out that day. Draco also greatly relished the time he cursed the Mudblood with large teeth and humiliated her in front of everybody. Ah, the memories.

Suddenly, out of the blue, Draco remembered Snape. Snape had been his favorite teacher, and Draco himself had been his favorite student, but he didn't know how to feel after Snape died. Sad? Angry? Malfoys didn't feel these emotions. In the end, he settled for indifference. Snape's death was one of the many casualties that occurred during the Battle of Hogwarts. There was no black and white, because everything was gray now. Draco wondered what the point of living was if there was none.

He decided to put off answering to McGonagall's note until tomorrow. Right now, he had some drinking to do.