Draco was easily the first person on the train. The platform 9 3/4 was eerily empty, though Draco could understand why. It was nine fifteen in the morning, and he was well over an hour and a half early for his train. He half expected for it to not be there, but was glad to see it, nonetheless.
He had apparated from from his family's manor, having bit his parents farewell from their foyer. They had been under close surveillance from the ministry, having escaped Azkaban by a hairsbreadth because of their 'Death Eater' status.
The train looked odd, being empty, but Draco was well used to empty rooms and halls. His mother had made sure that he would arrive early and out of the public's prying, greedy eyes.
It was bad enough knowing you didn't deserve a second chance. It was even more torturous when everyone else in the Wizarding World knew, too.
He levitated his belongings to follow him to the prefects cabin, the Head Boy badge gleaming on his robes. Draco briefly wondered to himself who the Head Girl was.
Oh well, he thought to himself. They're probably preppy and role-model enough for the both of us.
He settled into one of the window seats of an empty cabin, closing his eyes and reveling in the peace while he could.
"Just one year," He told himself, leaning against the cool window. One year, and he would be long gone.
It wasn't long before a voice called out to him.
"Mr. Malfoy?" A shrill voice called him. Draco cracked his eyes open, feeling the weight of his sleepless nights on his eyelids.
The woman before him had a tired, worn face. Professor McGonagall, or Headmistress McGonagall, wore emerald green robes, as she normally did, with her greying hair tied back into a tight bun. A pointed, green-rimmed hat adorned her head.
"What are you doing here this early?" She inquired, stepping into the cabin.
Draco groaned internally. The last thing he wanted was to have to answer to the head of the Gryffindor house.
"Because I can be." His answer was short and precise. She didn't need to know about the sudden anxiety him and his mother had about groups of people, if you could even call it that.
She gave him an all-knowing look. She could see right through the shit like Dumbledore did.
"If," She began again, as though Draco's words had floated in one ear and out the other. "You should ever need me, Mr. Malfoy, I may not be your head of house, but I am your headmistress and as the Head Boy, you should know that you are open to see me about any issues you may be facing, educationally or socially." This was followed by a stern look, before she disappeared from his line of view.
Great. She was already onto his case, too. Draco's mother was already overbearing on her own, demanding weekly letters like she did every year since he started Hogwarts, and him ignoring her demands like every other year. This time was unlike the others, however, because she was even more scared now than ever, of what their reputation was.
"What will the other kids think about him, Lucius? Oh goodness, what will they do to my gorgeous little Dragon?"
Her words, however worried, were unnecessary.
Draco didn't feel like he had closed his eyes for very long before he heard the first families step onto the platform. Their laughter and words burned his ears.
Merlin, they were arriving by the dozen. Draco looked at his watch. There was half an hour until the train was due to depart. Draco had been asleep for an hour.
Well, there was no point in trying to go back to sleep, now, with all the people arriving. Asleep or not, however, Draco doubted anyone would try to sit with him. Many of them were aware about his prior allegiance to the Dark Lord, and pretty much everyone was terrified of him for it.
For what some people hated him for, others like his old friends, Blaise, Pansy and Theo hated him for siding with the school at the very last second.
"Blood traitor." They had called him, along with a string of other unpleasantries. None of it particularly bothered him. None of it was new. He had heard all the things people would call him over the years.
Dickhead, asshole, self-absorbed, Death Eater. The list of them really went on.
It was only when he heard a familiar girl's voice sound from outside his window, did he look up.
"Do you have everything, dear?" Draco heard a familiar sounding voice standing close to his window.
"I think so." Her voice stood out to him. As all-knowing and confident as always. Well, shit. She was back, too?
"Remember to owl us whenever you get the chance, Hermione." Molly Weasley's voice shook. Draco didn't have the guts to look at her, anymore. He knew what had happened to her son, and he knew that he was one of the suspects in the murder.
"I will." This promise was probably as empty as the one Draco made to his mother to write. He looked up in time to see them hug briefly before they parted so Hermione could board the train. Draco wondered why she came back. She could probably get any job she wanted, with her history and skillset.
She looked different, however. Draco couldn't put his finger on it, as she disappeared from his sight when she boarded the train. However, he hit the nail on the head when she knocked on his compartment door and asked if he was saving any of the seats.
Hermione Granger looked like she was being haunted by the ghosts in her closet. Dark purple-ish, bruise-like circles were hanging under her eyes. He wondered if she had tried her luck at eyeshadow, and miserably failed. She looked thinner than before and a little bit pale, though Draco was not going to comment on it. He didn't look much better.
Draco had risen in the morning, rinsed his face, and not changed anything about his hair. Barely had breakfast, and gotten dressed before he was being ushered by his mother. But unlike Draco, Hermione's eyes also reeked of determination.
"Well?" She said impatiently, "Can I sit, or not?"
Draco nodded, and she sat herself down in the seat opposite him. If he were to lean forwards a little, there was a chance their knees would brush. He was close enough to see the badge that looked much like his own Head Boy badge pinned to her chest – not that he was looking there, though.
It appeared that she had also see his badge. Her eyes had widened a little when she really took note of who he was. Unlike every other witch and wizard in their world that cowered away from him, Hermione stayed planted in her spot.
"We have to organise the prefects once the train leaves, you realise?" She said, taking some parchment and a quill from her bag.
"Yes, I do, Granger,." He replied stiffly. "I see your attitude hasn't changed."
"Ditto," She scoffed.
The words had barely left her mouth before the giant clock on the platform hit eleven, and the train pulled away, leaving the families of the students on board behind.
The ride to Hogwarts was flying by fast, though it was just the two of them in the cabin. Of course they left every now and again to check on things and patrol, but otherwise they sat in silence as the countryside zoomed past their windows.
"Anything off the trolly, dearies?" The old lady shot a look at Hermione, who's nose was buried deep into a book, and then to Draco, who was starving.
Hermine didn't budge, so Draco said to the woman, "Two chocolate frogs and two pumpkin pasties." He handed over the money for the food, and then the lady was off again, her trolly rattling behind her.
Draco dropped one of each of the items on Hermione's book. Her eyes shot up at him, the brown orbs seeming to eye him and strip him of all his secrets in seconds. Her eyes could kill you with one look.
"Thank you," She said graciously, after realising what had just happened. Draco nodded at her in return.
He saw her move to take out two sandwiches from her pockets, handing one over to him. "They're ham, cheese, tomato, lettuce and mayo."
Draco looked at the wet sandwich in her hands that she was offering, before reaching out to grab it. Their hands brushed for a moment, before they hastily pulled away from eachother. Draco was so hungry, he was willing to eat a dripping sandwich, handed to him by a muggle-born.
A few wordless minutes passed between them, with each of them quietly eating their food. Hermione let out a bitter chuckle.
Draco shot her a curious look. She, in return, held up her chocolate frog card. A boy with a lightning scar on his forehead and glistening green eyes stared at him. Saint Freaking Potter.
"You'd think I see enough of him already." She tossed the card carelessly to the side. Draco scoffed and took out his own chocolate frog, stuffing it into his mouth. He quickly swallowed, before taking a look at his card.
"I got..." Draco took one look at the grey-haired man on the card. His throat choked up.
The old, greying face of Albus Dumbledore eyed him- not glaring, no. Never glaring. He looked at Draco as he always did, as though he knew something he didn't.
Draco hadn't noticed Hermione get up to sit beside him to see the card.
"You didn't kill him," Hermione said to Draco, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. She tried to look him in the eyes, but he was still looking at the card.
Dumbledore's picture turned around, before disappearing into the blackness.
"I know," Draco said. "I've heard this talk before."
Hermione just looked at him, as though she was analysing him. It made him feel awkwardly nervous. Of course, he had been on the receiving end of one of her glares before, but this look was different to all the others he seemed to get. It was almost as though she cared.
Immediately, he dismissed the thought from his head. Of course she didn't care. That would be absurd.