Author's Note: Here's chapter two. I'm going to ease into Hermione/Draco. I don't want to just rush into it. But, it will come soon, I promise. I hope you enjoy this.

Chapter 2

August 18th, 1996

She sat up with a gasp, her hands frantically searching for her wand as she breathed heavily. When her fingers finally curled around the 10 ¾ inches of vine wood, she whispered 'lumos' and waved her arm around to check the room, making sure there wasn't anyone in the shadows. When she found all that was there were a bunch of neatly maid beds untouched from the emptiness of summer, she sank back into her pillows and closed her eyes with a small sigh. She could still feel his touch. Only one of them actually stooped so low as to touch her mudblood skin. The rest were content on just torturing her, but not him. No, he really wanted her to suffer. Killing her parents just hadn't been enough, he had to invade her body too.

She took a couple deep breaths, flicking her wand and silently giving the counter-spell, so the room was once again covered in darkness. She reached for the bedside table and grabbed the vial of Calming Draught, it was given more for her depression than anything.

Once she felt her nerves relax she threw the covers off and got out of bed, stretching her hands over her head and listening to her back pop. She opened the curtains and looked out to the rising sun. A new day, Hermione, she told herself, but it didn't do an ounce of good. Another day she lived, another day her parents were dead.

She moved herself to the bathroom, getting a warm shower, and scrubbing herself down until her skin was pink and almost bleeding from her roughness with the sponge. All the scratches and bruises had faded with Madam Pomfrey's spells, but no spell could take away the dirtiness she felt, and she had a feeling she would always feel his touch, no mater how much she washed herself. Would she ever feel clean again?

By the time she was dressed it was breakfast, and Professor McGonagall waited for her in the Gryffindor common room. Since the day she started milling about her head of house had been escorting her to meals. As if she would throw herself down a flight of stairs or something if she wasn't under supervision. She was depressed and sad, sure. But, did she want to kill herself? Truth be told, she didn't know yet.

McGonagall didn't leave her until she was sat down, a good couple feet from the other four students that were currently walking about Hogwarts. And for the first time she wondered what they were doing there. It was summer, why weren't they in their mansions celebrating the new marks on their arms that linked them to the most vile man on earth? There were so many other questions, but was she really brave enough to ask?

When a plate of food and a glass of pumpkin juice appeared she slowly began to pick and sip. Small bites, chew slowly, swallow... It was like a mantra in her head so her mind wouldn't wander.

She grew tense when a girl sat opposite her. Pansy Parkinson offered a shy smile as she sat down, placing her book on the table and scooting it away when a plate appeared before the raven haired girl. Hermione grew confused and she was sure it showed on her face. She remembered, quite well, a time when Parkinson would call her a 'filthy mudblood' and she would return with an insult of her own, mostly 'pug face'.

"Hi," Pansy greeted quietly, taking a sip of pumpkin juice, then nibbling on a corner of toast as she opened her book and began to read while she enjoyed her breakfast.

Hermione looked around the Great Hall, the three Slytherin boys were looking towards them oddly, and she was once again surprised to see their faces sneer-less. A glance to the staff table and a small smile from Dumbledore, had her returning to her meal silently. She noticed though, that the book Pansy read, was a muggle story. One of her favorites as well. Pride and Prejudice.

The rest of the day went rather uneventful. Besides the fact that Pansy sat with her at both lunch and dinner too. Each time, she was greeted with a soft 'hi' and a smile. And each time the smile made Hermione wonder.

/-/-/-/

August 19th, 1996

The next morning breakfast resumed as it had the day before, Hermione had company. Pansy never talked besides a friendly greeting. She just ate her meal and resumed her reading. It was odd, but Hermione strangely felt comforted with the other female's presence. She didn't feel so lonely. That didn't mean she would begin to speak to her though. No, no, she wouldn't do that.

Hermione ate in silence, as usual. Her eyes drifting over things without much importance to her gaze. Movement from across the table caught her gaze and she watched as Pansy pushed up her shirt sleeves. Her eyes immediately zoomed in on her left arm. She had been expecting that god awful tattoo of a skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth, but what her sight was met with was nothing but clear skin.

Hermione slowly stood up and left the table, confusion written all over her face as she trudged her way to the library.

/-/-/-/

Hermione's arms were getting heavy from all the books she carried in her arms. All of them Defense Against the Dark Arts materials. She felt that maybe she should brush up on the subject. Maybe, it would help. It won't take away what happened though, she thought and closed her eyes as she rounded a corner. Her mind twirled as her feet walked her straight into somebody, the books she carried falling to the floor with loud thuds and wisps as some books opened from the fall.

She looked to the person she'd rudely bumped into, only to see Blaise Zabini, leaning over and picking her books up. "Sorry about that," he said, looking up with a bright smile.

Hermione just stared at him for a moment. Blaise had never called her a mudblood, he'd never insinuated anything wrong about her blood status since she'd known him. Sure, they never talked before. But, for a Slytherin, Blaise had always kept his insults to himself, usually just mimicking Malfoy's sneer. "No, um," she cleared her throat. Was that really her voice? She hadn't talked in so long, her voice sounded as if she had eaten a bowl of gravel for breakfast. With a hand on her neck she cleared her throat once more. "No, it was my fault," she said, and for her voice being so strangely rough, it came out hesitantly soft.

Blaise stood up with the load of tombs, nearly dropping them before he situated them right and flashed Hermione another grin. "The bookworm getting lost in her books again, hm?" he asked, his tone a little on the teasing side.

Hermione didn't know she was smiling until Blaise's eyes widened and she immediately frowned and grabbed her books from him. Making her way over to a table and dropping the large texts on the willow surface. She pulled a chair out and took a seat, not fretting and getting engrossed with the first book of the pile, her hair falling and framing her face from view. She could smile. No, it wasn't her time to smile. Not yet.

Blaise had been very shocked. The times he'd seen the Granger girl her face was nothing but an expressionless mask that rivaled even Draco's at times. Seeing her smile, her lips actually quirk into something that wasn't a straight line. It was a big change from what he'd seen from her lately. He new Draco worried about her. And before summer began he would have wondered if his best friend was completely barmy, but so much had changed. He was no longer compelled to think like his Death Eater mother. None of them were compelled at all. No, he was free. Just as Draco, Pansy and Theo were.