Thank you all to my lovely reviewers! Please continue reviewing. It makes me beyond excited to see a new one, and I'm not getting many despite the multiple story alerts and favorites.

Don't worry if Malfoy seems a little kind in this chapter. They're tired and alone, so he doesn't have his typical mask on. But Defense Against the Dark Arts is in the next chapter, with the trio and Slytherins... he certainly won't be civil then!

I hope you're all staying safe from Hurricane Irene! We lost power for about an hour here, but apparently the worst is not yet over.

Anything you recognize is not mine.

Chapter Seven

"Remember, none of us can sit together tonight," said Ginny as she and Hermione entered the Great Hall an hour later. They had managed to get a lot of their work done, but had lost track of time and were now late for dinner.

"I remember," said Hermione, groaning. She scanned the tables for the boys. She laughed. "Guess the boys weren't too thrilled about the plan – they're over there, trying to hide from us." She pointed to a table across the room where the boys sat alone, their backs to the door. Ginny frowned.

"I'll go separate them. You find a table; I'll see you in the morning!" With that she hurried off, ready to yell at the boys.

Hermione clutched her bag to her side, feeling the comforting weight of books pulling down on her shoulder. She had grabbed it as she and Ginny rushed out of the room, figuring she would need something to distract her if she ended up sitting at a table of strangers.

Looking around, she was suddenly hit by the notion that she did not know anyone in the school. With over six hundred students – a hundred seventy-five per House with half that in Slytherin – she had thought finding someone knew would be somewhat easy. She had taken classes with these students for six full years, yet she only knew a handful.

Her eyes fell on Matthew, the Ravenclaw prefect, and she immediately hurried to him. He sat at a table with one girl and two other boys, all of whom were Ravenclaw. Hermione slowed as she approached him and gave a shy smile when he looked up and saw her.

"Hermione! Hello," he said, grinning at her. "Guys, this is the Head Girl, Hermione Granger. Hermione, this is Andrew, Mike, and Melanie." He gestured to each person, and Hermione nodded at them in turn.

"Hello," she replied. Her eyes darted to the empty seat beside him. "Mind if I sit?"

"Go ahead!" Matthew replied, smiling warmly. He took his bag off the seat and allowed her to sit down next to him. "Why aren't you sitting with Harry and Ron?"

Hermione blushed, embarrassed that he knew her friends and she hadn't even known him until meeting on the train. "We decided to sit with different people at dinners. Trying to promote the inter-House unity theme…" she said, trailing off awkwardly. Matthew grinned at her.

"That's a great idea. I feel like I don't know anyone in this school except for seventh year Ravenclaws." The others nodded in agreement.

"That's what we were saying at breakfast. I mean, we're in the same grade, yet I didn't know you until yesterday." Hermione quickly fell into an easy conversation with him, talking about the changes in the school and their classes. She tried to talk to his friends, but they seemed content to simply sit quietly and eat.

It was over an hour later when Hermione realized that most of the students had returned to their dorms. "What time is it?" she asked frantically, interrupting Matthew as he was commenting about his favorite type of owl.

He paused at her interruption, then looked at his watch. "Uh, seven twenty. Why?"

"Oh no! I'm late for rounds… Malfoy and I have the long rounds tonight. I've got to go." She grabbed her bag and stood up, nodding a goodbye to the other Ravenclaws.

"Malfoy certainly put you two together for a lot of the rounds," Matthew commented, standing and following her out of the Great Hall. Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him, sighing. She really was in a hurry and didn't want to deal with this,

"We're the Heads, we need to take on more rounds than the prefects. It makes sense that our extra rounds are together," she said. She turned around to face him. "Look, I'm already late. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

Matthew relented. "All right. Have fun, don't let him hex you." He winked at her, then left to go back to his friends, leaving Hermione alone in the hall.

"Seems he has a thing for you, Granger," said Malfoy. Hermione jumped, looking around and finding the source of the voice as he stepped forward. His black cloak had allowed him to blend into the shadowy walls with ease.

"What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting at the dorms," Hermione replied, ignoring his comment.

"So did I, but after I waited twenty minutes I figured I'd better come see if Derevill's boring chatter had killed you."

"It was not boring chatter; he's much more interesting than you!" Hermione argued.

"Oh yea? So what was this engrossing conversation that kept you?" Malfoy asked, sneering at her.

Hermione paused. She actually couldn't remember anything that they had talked about during the meal. "That's not important," she replied. "Besides, it's not like you've ever had anything interesting to say."

"You've just never listened to me do anything but make fun of your misfit friends."

"And whose fault is that?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "We're already late. We need to hurry up and start the rounds."

Hermione glared at him. "Fine. I'll take the East wing, you take the West." She had turned to storm away when he called out to her.

"Didn't you say this morning to never split up on rounds?"

"That was before I realized how many rounds I would be paired with you on. I'm sure we're both perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves. I was a major part in the war, and… well, I suppose you were too?" Hermione said, taunting him.

"We're supposed to be setting an example for the other prefects." His face remained passive, not reacting to her comment. "We'll go together. Come on." He turned and began walking down the hall, not looking over his shoulder to see if Hermione was following. She sighed and looked behind her, wishing she could leave but knowing he was right.

"Fine," she muttered, and started after him.

An hour into the rounds Hermione began regretting that she hadn't convinced Malfoy to stop at their dorms before beginning. She hadn't emptied her bag since that morning, so she was carrying around the three textbooks for her classes that day, as well as a thick book to read for pleasure, and lugging it around the school was becoming painful. She shifted it onto her other shoulder, trying to relieve the pain.

"Oh, just give me it," said Malfoy, putting his hand out. Hermione looked at him, confused. "The bag," he explained. "You look like you're going to fall over, and we're only a third into our shift."

"I'm fine," replied Hermione, gripping the bag to her and lifting her chin, trying to ignore the pain from it digging into her shoulder. The school had rules against using magic for common things, such as making her books smaller to be easier to carry, and as Head Girl she couldn't go against the rules. "Come on, we haven't gone down this hall yet." She turned to begin down the next hall, but the sudden movement caused her bag to fall to the ground and she gripped her shoulder from the sharp jab of pain.

"You really need to learn to listen to me, Granger," said Malfoy, picking up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder with ease. He turned down the hall Hermione had mentioned and refused to acknowledge the fuming Hermione, who was now demanding he give her bag back.

As they walked torches on the walls came to life, lighting their way and casting long shadows along the walls. They had just reached the end of the hall when Hermione stopped short.

"What level are we on?" she asked quietly, looking at the door in front of her.

"The third, I think," he replied. He shifted her bag and turned around to face her, surprised to see her still facing the wooden panel door as he had turned around when he realized they had come to a dead end. "Why?"

Hermione hardly registered his question. They were on the third floor, in the corridor that, in their first year, had been off-limits to all students, for reasons which she learned first-hand. Although she knew that if she pushed the door open now she would find nothing behind it, her mind pulled her back seven years, when she was eleven years old. This door had led to her entrance into the war. It seemed impossible that it was now over, and that she would not be fighting Voldemort again that year.

"What is it?" Malfoy asked. She shook her head silently, and, without even knowing what she was doing, raised her wand and whispered, "alohomora," the same spell that she had said all those years ago.

The black latch jumped at her command, and she pushed the unlocked door open slowly. She held her breath as the door creaked, opening wider until it hung open completely in front of her. She stepped inside cautiously, her wand still at the ready.

"Lumos," muttered Malfoy, stepping into the room with her and offering a little light. He stood behind her. The only sound in the room was of their breathing, but for a moment Hermione was taken back, and she heard the sweet melody of the wooden flute, the heavy breathing of the three heads, and the long, extended cries of the trio as they fell through the trapdoor. "Granger?"

"Seven years ago a three-headed dog lived in this room," Hermione whispered, more to herself than to Malfoy. "He was the first in a long line of protection for the Sorcerer's Stone, a stone that could turn items to gold and grant immortality. A stone that Voldemort wanted." She heard Malfoy's sudden intake of breath at the name, but continued on. "He had taken over Professor Quirrell. He made him come down here, to get the stone, so that he could come back to life. But we… we found out about his plans. So we came here, and we got past the protections. And Harry stopped Voldemort for the second time."

Hermione stepped forward, out of the protection of light that Malfoy offered and into the middle of the room, kneeling beside the now nailed down trap door and running her fingers against the coarse wood. "But he wasn't defeated for good. He killed hundreds in the next five years, tore apart families…" Malfoy shifted uncomfortably behind her, and she was suddenly aware of his presence. She once again allowed herself to consider what he would have been like if Voldemort hadn't returned to power, if his father hadn't been a Death Eater. "He turned the world against one another," she finished, turning to look at him.

Malfoy couldn't see her; she remained in the shadows of the room. But his wand lit his face, and she examined it, all the lines and scars that shouldn't be on a seventeen year old's face. Her voice fell even lower so that she could barely even hear herself speak the next words. "I hate that bloody war."

At ten o'clock that night they arrived back at their dorms. They hadn't spoken a single word since they left the room on the third floor, and Hermione felt exhausted even though all she had done was walk around the castle. She was thankful when the stone House Elf jumped to life at their voices and revealed the doorway.

Malfoy dropped her bag inside the entrance and turned around, not wanting to stay around this strange, silent Hermione. "I'm going to make sure Longbottom and Chorley are starting their rounds now. I'll be back in a bit." Hermione nodded blankly and walked over to the couch. Malfoy hesitated as he saw her drop her head into her hands, but when she still said nothing, he walked out and into the now empty halls. Their rounds had been simply to ensure no one was misbehaving, but the rounds from ten to midnight where after curfew, so the only ones that were allowed in the halls were prefects and professors.

Malfoy shoved his hand through his hair, sighing. He had been civil to Hermione the past few days, hoping to mess with her mind, but instead he was just confusing himself. It was easy to mock her when there was a crowd and Crabbe and Goyle by his side. But neither of his friends had been invited to return to Hogwarts that year due to their family's involvement in the war, and with the new changes within Hogwarts and being the Heads, they were often alone together. He wasn't used to seeing a vulnerable side to the girl. Normally she took care to always have her armor on around him.

His mind flashed back to the first night. He had gone to bed right away, but after an hour of tossing and turning in his sheets he decided to get a glass of water. He opened his door quietly and walked across the living area to the kitchen, his bare feet padding against the carpet softly. He didn't notice her until he was sipping his water and he heard a small moan come from the couch. Placing his glass in the sink, he walked over to see Hermione lying on the couch, still in her jeans and sweater. She shifted in her sleep, burying her head in a corner of the couch. He froze, realizing that she was having a nightmare. Without realizing what he was doing, he walked into his room and came back out carrying a soft blanket that his mom has sewn for him when he was young and continued to pack for him every year despite his protests. He tossed it over Hermione's sleeping body, then returned to bed and fell asleep without much effort.

He shook his head, clearing his mind of the thought. He was just tired, having gotten precious little sleep in the last few weeks. He sighed, knowing that he would not be able to sleep deeply until after he let Hermione back in at midnight from her rounds with Blaise.

A whimpering from down the hall pulled Malfoy out of his thoughts, and he froze. He had unconsciously walked deeper into the dungeons out of habit rather than going up to the towers where the prefects would no doubt be starting their rounds. He was about to turn around to find the prefects when a familiar female hiccup stopped him. He paused, listening sharply.

"Clarise?" he whispered, forgetting about the rounds and walking deeper into the dungeons. The halls were dark, with only a few torches on the walls offering light, but there was no mistaking the platinum blonde hair of the small girl curled against the cement wall.

"Draco?" asked the girl, looking up from behind her veil of hair. Her eyes were a stormy gray, matching his own. "Is that you?"

In a few long strides Malfoy was by the girl's side, kneeling beside her, his large hand resting on her back. "Yes, it's me," he whispered. "Why are you out of bed?"

Clarise looked down, her hair shielding her face once more. "We were all talking before curfew, some of the other first years and me," she said slowly. "And they all started talking about… their parents. And Draco, they're all… they're all meeting again…" She stopped and buried her face in Malfoy's silky robes, soaking them with her tears.

"Shh, Reese. It's okay." He smoothed her hair softly, holding her small head against his chest, knowing not to question her further about her conversation until she had gotten some sleep. She gasped for breath between her cries and fisted her hands against his chest. "Want to stay with me tonight?" he asked, pulling away slightly to look her in the face. Tears stained her pale skin and she sniffed loudly before nodding.

"Okay," she said, letting a sad smile flicker across her face. Malfoy stood up and reached his hand out to the younger girl, who grasped it like a lifeline as they walked back to his dorm.

Malfoy knocked on the wall where the door should be, while Clarise clung to his side timidly, eying the House Else statue that came up to her chest. Malfoy's fingers slid through her smooth hair as he waited for Hermione to open the door.

"Are Neville and Dennis-" she began, but stopped suddenly when she saw the small girl hovering behind Malfoy. "Who's this?"

"Clarise," he replied simply, gently pulling the girl into the dorm. "I need to put her to bed." Hermione stood dumb-founded in the living room, staring after the two as Malfoy led Clarise into his bedroom and lifted the now laughing girl into his bed. He tucked the green sheets under her chin and gently pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. After he had pulled the door closed behind him quietly and reentered the living room Hermione pounced on him.

"What was that about?" she hissed, glancing back at the door that still remained open a crack. Her armor was back up, and she let her confusion come out as an accusation.

Malfoy glared at her, all the tenderness he had shown the small girl now gone. "I was taking care of my little sister, Granger. Got a problem with that?" He rolled his eyes at her shocked expression. "Now if you don't mind, I need to get some work done." He grabbed his bag and dropped it on the kitchen table, taking out his Transfiguration book to begin the essay Hermione had finished while he was on rounds earlier that day.

Hermione eyed the table, where her books and parchment lay haphazardly. She couldn't exactly pick up her books to finish her work in her room without being extremely obvious that she was avoiding Malfoy, so she sat at the seat furthest from Malfoy and pulled out her Potions book to begin reading the assigned chapter, forcing her eyes to stay on the page and not look at the room where the girl Malfoy was so tender with lay.