Author's Note: This FF contains graphic content. If you are not of age, please refrain yourself from reading any further. Thankyou.

Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter. The wonderful Potter Queen nicknamed J.K. Rowling has this happy power. The only thing I do own is possibly the plot.

Summary- Hermione Granger is entering her seventh year at Hogwarts and she has been crowned Head Girl. Draco Malfoy, also entering his seventh year at Hogwarts was also crowned Head Boy. The first couple of weeks at Hogwarts go pretty smooth, but what happens when the two rivals land themselves in detentions for the rest of the year?


Hermione Granger skillfully appeared in an Alley off the main streets of Diagon Alley. She had just apparated. A skill many students her age would have immediately misused. She was meeting Harry and the Weasleys in the Leaky Cauldron at noon. She looked at her watch. It was barely ten.

Head held high, Hermione walked out of the gloomy alley and into the bustling streets. She pulled her list of books from her bag as she walked towards Flourish and Blotts. As she entered the shop and a tiny bell somewhere in the shop jingled causing the shop owner to look up and smile. Hermione politely returned the gesture.

She looked down at her list and wasn't surprised to find A Standard Book of Spells: Grade 7 at the top of the list. She automatically made her way to a bookcase at the back of the room and swiftly picked up the book. She glanced at her list again. Only 4 more books were on the list.

That's odd… Normally we have at least 6 books…

Hermione decided to ignore the shortness of book required. Maybe they would be reusing some of their old books, or maybe they would be doing hands on only work it some of the classes. She shrugged. It wasn't really a big deal.

Quickly collecting the remaining books and picking out one for her free time, Hermione headed up to the counter. She stacked the books and waited patiently for the cashier to ring them up. The cashier smiled at her again as she told her the total.

"That will be 14 galleons and 5 sickles." The cashier said, waiting for the fee expectantly.

She searched her moneybag, fingering around for the galleons and sickles. Luckily she had enough, but if she wanted spending money for Hogsmeade, she was going to have to ask for more. Hermione cringed. Her family was a bit low on money at the time. Her father had recently spent a good deal of money on a new car. He insisted that he needed it for company errands.

"Hermione, we'll do alright on money. Do you think your mother and I work for nothing?" her father asked, his voice rising.

"What's wrong with Doris?" Hermione had asked, referring to their current car.

Her father ignored her and rambled on.

"If you think that you're going to be made fun of for being low on money at school, don't. Buying a new car is not going to get us down, do you hear me?"

Hermione sighed. Truth be told, she knew that her father was lying, she just didn't feel up to the argument.

"Yes, dad, I hear you."

"Good. Now, tomorrow Acacia and I will be heading to the dealership to buy a new car. Would you like to come?"

She shook her head. She would rather stay home and work on her schoolwork.

"Alright. When we come home, you're coming to dinner with us in our grand new car."

"What's wrong with Doris." Hermione repeated.

Her father had sighed. "Honey, Doris is a great car, there is no doubt about that, but she is getting old and high on miles. A car like that could get me into serious trouble if it failed on a work delivery, and if that happened, I could lose my job. Now, we don't want that to happen, right?"

"Right." She had replied.

Hermione loved her father and mother very much, and she understood that a new car would be better for business, but why did it have to be brand new. If they had just looked a little harder, they would have surely found something suitable.

Lost in her thoughts, Hermione didn't notice when she walked right past Harry and Ron.

"Isn't that Hermione?" Harry asked, standing up from their bench outside the Leaky Cauldron.

Ron stood up too to look over the crowd. He sighed, "Yeah, that's her. But what the bloody hell is she doing? Didn't she see us wave?"

"I suppose not…" Harry sighed also. "'C'mon, lets go get her."

Harry and Ron quickly made their way through the thick crowd, trying to reach Hermione before she did something too clumsy. She was obviously deep in thought.

Ergh. I don't see why he always gets his way. Just because he's the man of the house shouldn't mean he should get treated like a king.

"Hermione… Hermione…"

See? He's even intruding my thoughts!

She was about to further curse her father when she was brought out of her thoughts when someone grabbed her shoulder. Reflexes taking over she raised a hand to strike the person holding onto her shoulder but she stopped herself as she caught a glimpse of the person in front of her.

"Harry! Oh! I'm sorry; I thought you were someone else! How long have you been trying to get my attention?" she asked. She barely suppressed a blush that was slowly creeping up onto her face.

She was answered by Ron's sarcastic look.

"Oh, only an hour or two."

Instinctively she looked down at her watch. It was only half past ten. She looked back up at Ron, glaring.

Her glare quickly disappeared as she found her two friends grinning sheepishly at her. She smiled and pulled the two into a group hug.

As she slowly pulled away she realized that they were there early.

"What are you doing here so soon?"

Suddenly Ron's face darkened. Harry quickly covered for him.

"Erm, Percy came to visit this morning. It wasn't very pretty so Mr. Weasley thought that it would be better if we came here." He explained.

She nodded. Percy wasn't a safe topic to talk about around Ron.

"So… Where's Ginny?" Hermione asked, changing the subject.

"She's off somewhere with her friends." Ron answered immediately through clenched teeth.

"Oh, so lets get our rooms, shall we?"

Harry nodded and Ron didn't respond. She hoped he wouldn't be like this all day…

When they reached the counter Harry asked for three rooms and he paid for all three before either of them could get out their money. When they were upstairs in Harry's room, Hermione and Ron started to question his motive for paying for their rooms.

"Thanks mate, that's mighty nice of you, but can I ask why?" Ron asked.

And Hermione was practically protesting. "Harry? What was that for? You need to save your money! That fortune of yours won't last forever, you know! I don't mind if you pay for Ron's, but you're not getting away with paying for mine!" With that she tried shoving a handful of sickles and knuts into his hand.

"Woah woah woah! Wait a minute you two… Did it ever occur to you that I might be insulted by being asked for a reason for simply being nice?" He asked sarcastically. Hermione didn't catch the sarcasm and immediately frowned and started to apologize.

"Oh, I'm sorry Harry… If you really, erm, want to pay for my room, I wouldn't mind…"

Ron grinned as Hermione stared at the floor, trying to hide her heated face.

"Now Hermione since Harry is in the giving mood, why don't you see if he'll buy you a new set of Quidditch Robes? I'm sure you're in dire need of them, right Hermione?" Ron continued grinning as he lightly elbowed her in the ribs.

"Now Ronald why on Earth would I need Quidditch robes? I'm not even on the team! And you know good and well that I hate flying on brooms-" Hermione quickly caught herself and felt her lips turning up into a smile and she felt her stomach tickle with laughter.

Yes, tomorrow would be a great start to a wonderful seventh year.


Draco Malfoy arrogantly stood in front of his wardrobe mirror, readying himself for the events that would take place later that evening. He straightened his robes and looked back to the mirror.

"Damn it," he cursed quietly.

Slowly he reached up towards his hair and pulled a lone strand back behind his ear. It seemed that that strand of hair was going to prove difficult tonight at the ceremony.

"Well you look slick, where are you headed?" his mirror commented girlishly.

Draco sighed. Ever since his father had replaced his old mirror, just getting dressed seemed like a task.

"Its none of your business where I'm going," he responded, once again trying to tame the single strand of hair.

"Well, if that's how you're going to act, I'm not going to bother giving you tips anymore. Hmph." And with that, his mirror went silent.

Draco let out a sigh of relief. Finally he could dress without having to argue.

He turned around and examined his cloak from the back. He then started to pull up his hood.

"Oh dear! Please don't tell me you're planning on going like that."

"Good God! Just shut the bloody hell up!" He said heatedly. "I swear, if I hear one more comment from you tonight, lets just say it'll be seven years bad luck for me."

As he took one last look in the mirror and headed out the door, he could've sworn he heard the mirror say one last thing.

"Fine, make a fool of yourself. It won't bother me at all."

Draco quickly made his way down the grand staircase and then towards the dungeon's slope. As he walked up to a portrait of Salazar Slytherin he felt someone tap his shoulder. He didn't even bother to turn around. He smirked.

"And who might this be?"

He was answered by a woman's voice.

"Draco darling, its so nice to see you here. I was just wondering if you would like to accompany me in…"


He turned around to face her.

"Well hello Pansy. Of course I would like to accompany you inside." He skillfully slipped his arm around her waist and spoke the password to the portrait.

As they stepped inside, Draco pulled his hood up and pulled away from Pansy. She then went over to the other women in the room, over by the fireplace. All of the women were dressed in evening gowns. They couldn't have the women looking like rags, could they?

A man's voice addressed Draco.

"How nice of you to join us, Dragon."

Draco bowed. "Thank you, my Lord."

Voldemort didn't bother to respond to Draco. "So Wormtail, is that everyone?"

A small dark figure stuttered out, "Y-yes, my Lord."

"Very well. Now, you all know why we're here, I presume."

A chorus of, 'Yes, my Lord,' rang through the room.

"Ok, good. Dragon, step forward please."

Draco tried to hide his excitement as he walked forward. He was finally going to get the Dark Mark. Finally.

He stopped in front of the platform Voldemort was speaking from, and bowed. Voldemort nodded.

"Macnair, get me my dagger, and the brander." He ordered.

"Yes my Lord." An old man's feeble voice responded.

Draco watched as the figure limped out of the room.

"Dragon, you understand that once the brander has marked you, you are eternally bound to me?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"You have no fears?"

"No, my Lord."

"No fears eh? I knew you were a strong one."

Just then the man re-entered the room with a dagger in one hand and a long black brander in the other. He approached the platform.

"I have the requested items, my Lord."

"Thank you, Macnair. Now, go join the others."

"Yes my Lord." Macnair backed into the circle of Deatheaters.

"Dragon, step up onto the platform, please."

"Yes, my Lord."

Draco slowly stepped up the steps the platform. He couldn't look too excited.

Voldemort set the brander down making it vibrate slightly. Swiftly he pulled out his wand and muttered a spell. A beautifully carved bowl appeared with emerald green flames dancing lazily upon its surface. He then pulled up his left sleeve and slowly positioned his dagger across his wrist. He looked at Draco one last time.

"Be grateful Dragon. My blood will bind you to me. Not just any pitiful power hungry wizard gets this. No, I study my followers. I take in every tiny flaw of them. Oddly, though, with you I have yet to find a weakness. Now, don't get to excited, I don't think your fellow peers would appreciate a smug prat among us, but you can do me a service." Voldemort paused. "And the service is this. Become one of us. Join our league of power. All it takes is a small cut and a little sting. Are you ready for it?"

He took in his words.

Voldemort thinks me to be powerful and flawless?

Yeah, but he also thinks that you're a smug prat.

Draco shook his head in an unnoticeable way and then answered.

"Yes, my Lord. I am fully prepared."

Voldemort's lips formed a small smile. "Good. Now, take off your robes and pull up your left sleeve, if you have them, and relax your arm muscles."

Draco did as he was told. He pulled off his robes and slipped his sleeve up. He then tried his best to relax his muscles.

"This is no quick task, Dragon, so be patient." Voldemort muttered.

Draco nodded and looked up. He felt his mouth go dry at the site he was seeing. Voldemort had slit his wrist and was letting it drip onto the brander's skull and snake. He looked up.

"Come here, boy."

He did as he was asked and moved closer to his soon to be master.

"Turn out your wrist, and yes, I am going to cut it."

He hid his shock and turned over his wrist, waiting for the cut.

Draco suppressed a gasp as he felt the cool silver of the blade, and then the sharp twinge of the cut. He had no clue what was coming next.

"Give me your wrist." Voldemort ordered, and Draco immediately lifted his wrist to his hands, despite the blood seeping out of his wrist.

As Voldemort got a grip on Draco's wrist, he turned his own over and then let his blood drop out of his cut, and into Draco's.

Without warning, a taller hooded figure placed the scolding hot brander onto the pale flesh of Draco's forearm.

He nearly lost his balance as the figure pressed the brander deeper into his flesh. Though he was in agony, he didn't fail to notice the red liquid that seemed to be crawling into his burning flesh. Draco fought to keep a straight face. He would not let pain be one of weaknesses.

After what seemed to be an eternity later, the brander was pulled away from his arm, leaving him with a gray burn of a skull with a snake slithering inside and around it.

Still in pain, Draco looked around the room to see everyone's eyes on him. He straightened his back and stood fully. He looked at Voldemort.

"Thank you, my Lord."

With that single sentence, the entire room burst into applause. Over the howling and clapping, he heard Voldemort shout; "Now that's a true Deatheater! That's a one of a kind!" And then he dismissed them.

Draco left quickly; not wanting to be stopped by anyone, he wasn't in the mood.

As he entered his room, he heard his mirror start rambling. He growled and walked up in front of it cleared his throat.

"I thought I told you to shut up?" He growled.

He was answered by a snore.

"Don't act "asleep", I know you're awake."

"Wh-what is it, dear?" The mirror said, seemingly waking up from a pleasant slumber.

He sighed and turned around and slumped on his bed.

"Just shut up, I'm not in the mood…" he muttered.

"Whatever you say dear…" and the mirror went silent.