"DAMMIT!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and waited for her mom to yell for her. Sure enough, a second later she heard her mother calling her name. She walked to the landing, and started down the stairs. Her mom was waiting at the foot of the stairs for her with a letter in her hand.

"Really, Hermione, you've gone to that school for almost 7 years. Surely, by now, the bloody owls know to go to YOUR window and not scare your poor mother half to Hades by flying into our sitting room window?" her mother asked.

Hermione bit back a laugh. "Honestly, maybe you shouldn't clean the windows so well that the owls think they can fly through. It's pretty rude of you," she said with a straight face. Her mom just made a face at her and held out the letter.

"Here, this just came for you, obviously. It has the Hogwarts seal on it," her mom told her. Hermione ran downstairs 2 at a time, and tore the letter open.

"I'm guessing it's good news?" her mother questioned, raising an eyebrow sardonically at the high pitched squeal her daughter had emitted.

"YES! It's from Professor Dumbledore. He was notifying me that I got the position of Head Girl!" Hermione started dancing in circles while her mom laughed.

"That's great, sweetie. When your father gets home you can tell him. He'll be very proud. Isn't there usually a Head Boy too?" her mom asked.

Hermione stopped dancing long enough to look down at the letter.

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Maybe it's Harry. Lord knows he could use a break after last year, though," Hermione muttered. She continued to read, then stopped and rolled her eyes. "Oh great. This should be interesting," she sighed. "I get to live in the Head Chambers all year with Draco Malfoy."

XXX

Back up in her room again, Hermione was ecstatic. She grabbed some parchment and immediately began to write to Harry and tell him the news. She was halfway through her second letter when she realized she had written Ron's name at the top of the sheet. She sighed, crumpled it up, and threw it behind her into her mounting trash piles. Not feeling up to writing the paragraph over, she murmured a duplicating spell and copied what she wrote to Harry onto another sheet that she decided she would send to Molly and the rest of the Weasleys. She knew Molly still cared about her, and would be proud of the Head Girl title.

She sealed the letters and addressed them, then went to where her owl, Athena, was sitting in her cage. Athena had been a gift to her from herself. She loved Crookshanks to death, but she knew that an Owl would be more helpful. Luckily, Crooks didn't mind Athena, and vice versa. She had taken one look at the stormy grey owl at the shop and knew what her name would be. What else would she name her? Not only was Athena's animal an owl of wisdom, but Athena was the goddess of wisdom. What else would people expect an owl of Hermione Granger, resident Know-it-All, to be named? she thought sarcastically. Usually calm, Athena was looking very agitated at the moment.

"What's up girl? I need you to carry these letters to Harry and to the Burrow. Harry should be at Grimmauld Place," she told her familiar.

After Voldemort had been destroyed, Harry had immediately moved out of the Dursley's and went to the only place he had to his name. Apparently, no matter how much Grimmauld place botherd him since Sirius' death, it was still better than the Dursley's. Since then, he had kept her updated on how things at his new place were going. Kreacher had taken to him well following the downfall of Voldemort after Harry had sat him down and had a talk with him. He also had Dobby there, of course. Harry paid Dobby a galleon a week, and loved having him around. Dobby had been there for Harry the last couple years, and it was Dobby who had led the Hogwarts and other house elves alike into battle. According to Harry's last letter, the entire place was cleaned and disinfected. Kreacher even agreed to help get the horrible screaming paintings off the walls.

Athena nipped her fingers while she was attaching the letters, as if to convey a message to her. Hermione, however, just swatted at the bird and told her to get a move on.

After she watched her fly away, Hermione started clearing off her desk. It was then she saw the letter.

Oh. Ok. This must be why she was upset. I have mail. Oops.

Picking up the letter, Hermione turned pale when seeing the handwriting. Knowing nothing good was written inside, Hermione still opened the letter and started to read.

Dearest Hermione,

I hope this finds you well. I can say the same cannot be said for me. You see, I am overcome with emotions. I see the same things when I close my eyes: death, destruction, blood. Surely you must see the same? I know you must. However, I realize that the effects of those sights mean different to you and I. While you get sickened at the thoughts, I gain power and insight.

You haven't been yourself lately, I know. You must be wrought with guilt and grief at your losses. With war comes death, however. You chose your side, as did we all, and you were lucky to escape with your life. You shouldn't feel bad about the Weasley deaths. Just because you were in the same area, mere meters from where the youngest one was, doesn't mean you should hold yourself responsible. I'm sure you did all you could. You were otherwise occupied; it's understandable. You couldn't be called upon to fight the Dark Lord face to face; you had other people to fight. Also, of course, Harry wanted the honors for himself. And it's perfecting fine that you saw the Weasley parents dueling probably minutes before Arthur was struck down, yet you continued to rush past instead of stopping to help the duel. I understand, Hermione. Really, I do. I don't judge you for you actions.

What do you see when you close your eyes, Hermione? Have you been able to move on? Or do you see the same as I do? The only thing I have to console myself with now is the hope that one day, definitely in the near future, you and I will meet. We've met before, of course, but this introduction will be better. Then I can show you what true bitterness, anger, and hate really is. You think you know anguish? When we finish, my dear, you will be begging me for death.

Don't grieve over your lost loved ones, Hermione. I will be only too happy to reunite you.

Always yours, and until next time,

Your New Lord

Hermione threw the letter down, and felt herself become dizzy. She lay down on her bed until the nausea passed, and then sat up again. She was still pale and shaky, but she made herself stand up.

Fuck him, she thought. She didn't know who this "NEW Lord" was, but she wasn't going to let him get to her. She grabbed the letter and stuffed it in her trunk along with the last 3 she had received from the same mysterious person, telling herself that she'd show Professor Dumbledore when she got to the Head Student orientation meeting. It could wait until then.

XXX

Over at Hogwarts, Severus Snape was stalking about his chambers like the bat he was always referred to as. He always hated the last few weeks leading up to the new school year, and this time was no different. Ok, that wasn't true, since this year he was going to be able to finally teach with no restrictions.

He was definitely looking forward to being a real teacher. For too long he had let his Slytherins get away with anything, all for the sole purpose of staying in good graces with Voldemort. Too long had he looked over students like Ms. Granger in favor of his own, all because he had to treat her like common filth. He was never free to encourage students from other houses; never free to discipline the ones from his own. This year would be different, though. This year he was going to change things around.

No one, however, would be taught anything if he couldn't find his damn lesson plans he was supposed to be handing into Dumbledore today.

"Shit!" he yelled, as he kicked over his coffee table with a crash. He felt a moment's satisfaction looking at the broken table, then sighed and fixed it again. It was a good thing the reparo spell didn't leave any indication it had been previously used because in times of temper; Snape was known to break things just to make himself feel better. If it left traces, then almost everything Snape owned would look horrible.

"Well, you sound pleasant Severus," drawled a voice from the doorway leading from his sitting room. Snape turned to see Draco leaning casually against the door frame, arms crossed, and one eyebrow slightly raised. A second later he dodged the book hurled at him with a lazy flick of his wand. "Really, Professor Snape, is that any way to treat your star pupil? I would think you would be more polite to the new Head Boy," he said in an innocent voice, waving the letter in front of him. "This just came for me. Honestly, I don't understand why Professor Dumbledore couldn't just walk it down here, or floo it. It seems sort of useless to use an owl for that. And why didn't you tell me about it, or that I'd be sharing a dorm with Granger?"

Snape paused long enough to snort and flip him off before continuing tearing apart his desk.

"Of course I'm in a pleasant mood. I'm always in a pleasant mood; this is why I'm always the students' favorite professor," he said dryly. "However, they won't like my mood much if I can't find these bloody papers. And I didn't tell you anything because I didn't KNOW anything. Even if I would have, I still wouldn't have told you."

Draco just shook his head and laughed quietly as he pushed himself away from the doorframe to help Severus look for the "bloody papers", muttering about how the only way Snape's normal mood could be worse than normal was if he was Voldemort himself, and wondering why he didn't just accio them.

Snape decided to ignore the first comment and answered the latter by explaining he had spelled it not to respond to the summoning charm since he didn't want anyone else getting them. Draco just rolled his eyes and continued his search, still muttering words loud enough for Snape to hear about paranoia and other things, and Snape glanced over at his godson.

This title was new, and seemed the most appropriate route. Draco had nowhere to live, no money, and no family. Snape had a couple places to live, plenty of money, and no family. Draco and Snape were two different people in very similar roles.

After the battle, it had come out about their parts in the war. They both received an Order of Merlin, Snape getting 1st Class and Draco a 2nd Class, and basically a pat on the shoulder. After that, they were thrust back into the wizarding world, and it was soon realized that not everyone welcomed them. On the one side, there were still people who did not, and would never, trust them. Most felt that even if Snape had turned to the Light, he still wore the Mark and was therefore still evil. With Draco, people only saw the boy he used to be, instead of the man he was now. On the other side of the spectrum, they were basically wanted men, but untouchable due to their "war hero" statuses. Voldemort's supporters, the ones who had kept their true identities quiet & the ones who had somehow avoided jail time, hated Draco and Snape with a passion, though probably more in Snape's case. He was, after all, the one who had passed information to Dumbledore before Voldemort's first fall, then had come back and somehow wormed his way into the Dark Lord's good graces as right hand man. With that position, he was able to start passing every tidbit gathered from any Death Eater, since he always heard the news first. If that wasn't bad enough, he also helped train the teenage wizard who eventually brought about his end, and came out with sunshine coming out of his ass. Oh yes, there were many people who wanted Snape dead.

Draco had it easier, but barely. He hated his father; anyone could see that. But he was raised a pureblood, and therefore the fact that he was formally disowned stung him. Added to the fact that most of his House hated him for betraying not only their future Lord but also being one of the reasons most their parents were imprisoned, surprisingly including a few from other houses as well. Plus, the same supporters that wanted Snape dead also wished the same for the young Malfoy, and he was essentially homeless and poor.

Snape had taken to the former heir and invited him to stay at his summer house in Rostock, Germany. With it being on its own acre, it was a small mansion. Only 2 floors, with a 3rd floor attic, it had 6 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms, a library, kitchen, common area, banquet hall, and of course, a potions lab. Snape didn't need all the room, but it was his land, so he chose to stay there during the summer. When Draco agreed to move in, he immediately took to the attic and converted it to a room. He enjoyed the slanted ceilings and the view from the old fashioned circular windows on either ends of the room. The windows were by far his favorite, as they were almost as tall as the room itself. The base of the circles started at his mid-calf and rose to 3 feet above his head. With the views, he was able to see out on the land from one end of his room, and if he walked to the other end, the Warnow River flowed for miles before it emptied into the Baltic Sea. Draco enjoyed Germany. He could finally stroll down any wizarding street and not worry about stray curses & hexes, or the stares and whispers that always plagued him in England. While wizards here certainly knew of Voldemort, they had their own paper to read the rumors. They still celebrated his downfall, yet no one paid any attention to just another pale, platinum blonde male walking around. In fact, if Draco didn't speak, then the townsfolk would never know he was British. Even that didn't matter so much after the first 6 months or so, because Snape had been teaching Draco the basics of the German language and he was picking it up fast.

Snape had surprisingly found it easy to live with the young man, especially since Draco was old enough to perform magic of his own. Snape had a few house elves, and he was polite to them, as their family had been serving HIS family for generations. Draco soon learned that these elves were not like the elves back at his old manor; no, these were SNAPE elves. They had survived years and years serving the line of Snape's and, even though they always performed their duties, they were not the soft, easily pushed around, scared elves Draco had grown up with. They could be almost as snarky as the professor himself.

The two men coexisted well, always going about their own business during the day, and spending the evenings in the library or banquet hall talking. They would sip wine or whiskey, and talk as if the battle hadn't happened and they weren't hated men. They would discuss Draco's future, and his plans after graduation, or just whatever came up.

Finally, after being there about 7 months, Snape approached Draco and asked if it would be ok to formally become his Godfather. If he did, then Draco would become his heir until he had any kids of his own, and even then, he would still be in the will. Also, he would have access to his houses and vaults, since right now he had no way to get to either one. He made sure to explain that this was in no way a hand-out, and it was merely a helping hand. At that, Draco had grinned and said ok, and they had signed the papers.

Snape was brought back to the present when Draco chucked a quill at his head and told him that he wasn't going to search by himself while Snape stood around basking in his handsome aura, and if he was too much a distraction then he could always leave Snape to find the missing papers himself.

At this Snape finally levitated the desk, threw it at the wall by Draco, and had himself a laugh as the normally graceful, haughty blonde jumped out of the way and landed very ungracefully in front of a book case on his ass, his hair sticking every which way with bits of wood splinters and dust. Draco, however, had the last laugh when Snape realized the folder he'd spent the last 2 hours searching for had been on the desk the whole time as the papers it contained floated down around Snape. Apparently, in his growing frustration, he had merely jarred it under further papers instead of clearing it away.

With a sigh, Snape started picking the pieces back up, straight backed, attempting to hold onto his pride while Draco merely continued to laugh.