'Harry, hurry up! We're going to be late!' Hermione grabbed Hedwig's cage and dumped him on top of Harry's trunk. Ron had already done the transition from this platform to Platform 9 ¾ so both Harry and Hermione were the only ones left to go. Hermione positioned herself in front of the brick wall, the familiar nerves building up at the bit of her stomach which she endured every year. This time, it would be her last. Her train of thought faltered as she glanced over at Harry who was struggling to collect all his belongings from off the floor. Fred had crashed into him on the way and his things were scattered all over the concrete floor, causing disapproving looks to be shot his way from muggles passing by, followed by confusion as they spotted the white owl.

Hermione gawped at the large black clock hanging from the ceiling and gasped, it was getting even closer to 11 o'clock by the second. Her eyebrows furrowed together in frustration as she stared at a prominent red brick in the wall. There it was. She was ready. She pushed off the ground and rushed towards it, cutting effortlessly through the bricks and vanishing. As she appeared on the platform, she smiled. It was just as she remembered, the bulky black train looming above everyone, the numbers 5972 engraved on the engine in fancy lettering. Excited first years scampered about, not a care in the world. Their first day of Hogwarts, possibly the best day of their lives.

Hermione knew the feeling.

Ron had already chosen the compartment for the trio, Hermione just couldn't find it. She peered through the windows, desperately searching for red-haired git who she most dearly loved. Sliding open the only compartment she hadn't looked in, she gasped and seemed to freeze on the spot. This was definitely not one of the people she had been somewhat expecting (or willing) to bump into.

'Ah, look who it is!' he sneered, looking at Crabbe and Goyle for encouragement, 'the mudblood's here for our orders, I'd like Firewhiskey and these two will have Butterbeer. Run along, Granger! Today would be nice.'

'Actually Malfoy, I just came into the wrong compartment. So if you don't mind…' Hermione struggled to get past his strong build as he leant against the doorway. She looked up at his face, almost vulnerable, and looked into his eyes. 'Let me through, Malfoy.' he ran a swift hand through his slightly ruffled blond hair. It wasn't as gelled back into a neat haircut anymore, it was scruffy and his fringe draped over his eyes...sort of...cutely…no. As if her heart was racing a little bit faster at the sight of Draco Malfoy's new haircut! What an abomination! As if she'd go weak at the knees to such a low-life.

As she shook her head miserably, she noticed the confectionery trolley, a witch behind it bending over into the compartment beside her. She was nodding her head, picking up various sweets and laying it down on the seat. Hermione laughed and muttered, 'typical' when she saw Ron, indulging himself in the chocolate frogs. Nothing changes, she guessed.

Slipping herself in between the door and the trolley, she collapsed onto the seat opposite Ron and inspected a strip of liquorice, pondering.

Since Ron and Harry had had the discussion with Kingsley, Hermione felt as if she had drifted apart from them slightly. What with the confidentiality, the two often went to a corner together and spoke quietly, making sure no one could hear. Hermione had also noticed the lack of clothes that they had packed for Hogwarts, and there was a constant fear at the back of her mind that they would leave, to do the unknown. Of course, that would be ridiculous. Harry would never leave such a job as Head Boy of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Only the highest of all wizards and witches were chosen for such ranks. And she doubted that Ron could survive on his own, on whatever they were to do. On the other hand, they might not have been assigned a mission, and it might have been just a discussion about something important. Unlikely though, Harry was more the 'do rather than say' type.

Draco experienced the drop of temperature first before the rest of the group. Pansy was practising her charms on Goyle, who was happily obliged, his nose turning abnormally larger every time she flicked her wand. Crabbe was sat opposite Draco, his mouth lined with chocolate and cockroach clusters, which were wriggling under his grasp, pinched between his fat fingers.

The window crackled as the darkness seeped around the train and the coldness condensed on it. He ran a finger down the glass and shuddered, glancing at the clear line he had formed. Grabbing his cloak and wrapping it around his body, he growled, 'no bloody heating on the train? My father will hear about this.' Pansy had stopped, copying Draco and attempting to produce warmth with the black material. Crabbe and Goyle were arguing over a ball of Fizzing Whizbees, hardly even noticing.

Zabini hushed them and his eyes widened, 'did you hear that?' Crabbe whimpered, 'Merlin Crabbe, listen! You don't think...' everyone turned to Draco.

'No. My father said Dumbledore hadn't guarded the castle this year. It can't be.' he shook his head, refusing to believe the chilling thought that he knew was indeed...factual.

'Harry...' whispered Ron. 'Hermione...'

Hermione shivered underneath her blanket. She was dressed in a jacket and jeans, quite clearly not enough in this freezing weather. She shook her head at Ron, who was looking back and forth between the two, a terrified expression on his face. 'Bloody hell, it's can't be...can it?'

'No.' Harry repositioned his glasses firmly. 'No. Kingsley would have informed—' just as he began to finish the sentence, a horrible shiver ran down Hermione's spine and she glanced up at the compartment door, a large, jet black hand was sliding it open, the bony fingers causing a small gasp to roll from her lips. A hooded figure peered round menacingly, shaking its head to Harry then to Ron. It glided forward; no feet appeared to be there upon the floor. Stopping in front of Ron, who was practically weeping, it began to suck the life out of him. Both Hermione and Harry felt the happiness escape from their bodies, sadness replacing it instead. Hermione was stuck there, swaddled in an orange blanket Molly (or rather her extra help) knitted for her, her eyes glued to the dementor who continued to wipe out every inch of positivity in Ron's mind.

Harry was struggling to find his wand as the stress took over him. He finally found it and Hermione watched with wide eyes as he rose from the seat and pointed his want at the black creature.

'EXPECTO...PATRONUM!'

Draco sat in the compartment, his nose scrunched up as he heard a shout from the other end of the train. The patronus spell. 'Bloody Potter...Always here to save the day! Fucking Harry Potter! Ooh, the hero! Ooh, The Boy Who Lived! Oh, will you fuck off.'

Ron lay on the seat, a little trail of drool trickling from his mouth. 'Should we wake him up or wait till he does it naturally?' Hermione pondered, pacing the small compartment. Harry sat cross-legged on the bench opposite, a bar of Honeydukes' finest chocolate in his hand. It was a particularly powerful antidote for the chilling effect produced by the Dementor's Kiss. He was ready to hand it to Ron whose eyes were finally fluttering open after a good twenty minutes of pure agony for the two. 'Oh, Ron! We were so worried!' Hermione rushed forward, wrapping her arms around the stunned boy.

He stared out of the window with glassy eyes, his mouth slightly open. Harry and Hermione exchanged glances as they looked at him, frowning.

'It was terrible...Merlin...it was terrible! I just wanted to...die, I felt my life flash before my eyes and then...t-then it came towards me and started to...started to...my face...I felt as if I would feel...feel sad for the rest of my...is that chocolate?'

Hermione dumped her handbag down beside the king-size bed and sat on the plush duvet, stuffed with hippogriff feathers. She sunk down slowly and smiled, she was extremely satisfied with her room. She looked around and surveyed it; there was an ensuite joining the head boy's and head girl's rooms together neatly, - which, if she may say, wasn't entirely adequate but she could live with it – a oak desk which sat in the far corner of the square room, tucking in efficiently with a nice straight-backed chair to go with it. A great mirror decorated the opposite wall, with intricate designed curls splaying out from the gold painted wood, it was beautiful. There wasn't one thing, apart from the joint bathroom, which she could have adjusted.

As she and Harry were in the tallest tower of Hogwarts, they also had a downstairs floor, which included a small kitchen and living room. The living room was where they would come in from, after the painting had let them through. It was the main part of their common room and probably the most homely. A large fire was constant in the fireplace opposite the sofa, addressing their need of warmth in the winter.

Hermione was still sat cross-legged on the bed when her thoughts went to Harry, she wondered where she was. She hadn't heard him come in, so she made a decision to go downstairs and look for him. Unfortunately, he kept his Marauder's Map with him at all times and not in his trunk so that wasn't an option. She had just stepped out of the painting and into the empty corridor when Professor McGonagall appeared, her tartan quidditch hat tied neatly under her chin. She looked flustered, and let out an 'oh!' as Hermione registered in front of her.

'Oh, Granger! I was looking for you, come along! We have no time to waste.' She hastily grabbed Hermione's elbow and pulled her along, Hermione looked somewhat confused as she was dragged along by McGonagall, other students frantically skidding out the way as the professor and head girl rushed through the corridors.

Hermione suddenly realised. 'Merlin!' she slapped her hand to her forehead, 'I forgot to come to you about being head girl! I knew I'd forgotten something!'

Professor McGonagall simply nodded and released Hermione from her grasp. She muttered the password to her office and she led her inside, both entering her room. It was simple, not like Dumbledore's which resembled a junk yard...then again; most of it was probably extremely valuable.

'Sit down, Granger.' She waved a dismissive hand towards a chair next to a grumpy old portrait of an unknown man. Hermione racked her brains, this was going to irritate her, she must know who it was.

'Hengist of Woodcroft, Hermione.' McGonagall said as she sat down on a seat behind her desk and noticed Hermione's determined facial expression.

'Ah! Yes, the founder of Hogsmeade!' Hermione grinned, crossing her feet over and over each other as she waited for the Professor to start.

She looked at Hermione and spoke, 'Potter has resigned from his position as Head Boy. And—'

'Without telling me!' Hermione gasped and rose from the chair.

'Well, it wasn't convenient. I'm sure he will speak to you personally afterwards, but you will need to stay here for a little while just to go through your role as head girl, now—'

'Who's the new head boy then?' Hermione demanded, secretly hoping it was Ron, but knowing it was highly unlikely.

'Granger, will you stop interrupting me!' McGonagall flushed, rising. 'The head boy will be...well, Draco Malfoy was indeed the next one down the list and we couldn't—'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Malfoy is going to be Head—'

'WHAT?' Hermione's fists were shaking as she curled them up into balls, anger and sadness both creeping up on her.

'Believe me, Granger,' a gruff voice sounded from the dark corner, 'I'm not exactly ecstatic either.'

Hermione spun round and came face-to-face with the boy she had despised for seven years.

And still counting.