Disclaimer: Do you really need me to tell you I don't own Harry Potter or it's wonderfully created characters? Didn't think so.

Hermione Granger stared out the window of the Hogwarts Express as it clicked over the tracks, heading toward the legendary school it was named after, taking countless amounts of students as it always did. Hermione's second-year sister, Isabel, sat across from her, drawing her sisters' blank stare with her talented hand. She paid no attention when the compartment door opened, assuming it was one of her or Hermione's nosy friends. She drew her sister's loose curls that she worked hard on every morning to prevent them from frizzing out. She drew her hands, one holding up her head and the other beneath her elbow, rolling her eyes at the filed fingernails and hand fingertips. She then drew her eyes, the blank eyes that were just … there. It'd be a lie to say her eyes were the way into Hermione's soul.

Suddenly the pad of paper was snatched from her hands, and Isabel yipped with pain as the paper cut her finger. Putting the wound to her mouth to stop the bleeding, she turned to look at Hermione, who was still motionless, staring out the window. She then looked at her attacker. And who should stand before her but Draco Malfoy, evil seventh-year Slytherin (jackass) pretty boy, according to her sister. She'd seen enough of his behavior to agree with that assessment.

"Ahh! Malfoy." Isabel said monotonously. The arrogant boy arched an eyebrow in acknowledgement while flipping through the notepad.

"Why the fuck is Granger drawn in blue?" He said with outrage.

"Do you not like blue? I was going to use green, but I couldn't decide between shades -neon green or pine - so I used an alternative. Or maybe I should have –" Isabel rambled purposely to piss Draco holier-than-thou Malfoy off.

"Shut up, squirt. I'm here for that thing next to you," Malfoy reported, and as if on cue, Hermione stood up, rolling her eyes surreptitiously and gracefully walked over to him. Without an expression on his face, he strode purposefully away. Hermione refused to walk behind him like a dog and stepped beside him, as if she knew where she was going. Isabel looked on in shock, not knowing why Malfoy was being so; well, not nice, but indifferent all of a sudden. He was definitely not the git that frequently used the nickname 'Mudblood' for the sisters.

Hermione and Draco had a silent agreement. They'd never had a civil conversation, never looked at each other (at least up close) if only to sneer at each other. Infatuation was infatuation, they way the other walked or talked, it was a groove they had for the other. But they had never spoken on the issue, or even knew the other had the same problem. They still loathed each other, because that's how it was supposed to be.

Draco brought her into a compartment apparently identical to the others, but magically enhanced on the inside to fit numerous people – the prefect's compartment. Hermione smiled warmly at everyone inside, noticing Ron's absence. The boy was so forgetful she almost found it entertaining.

But this was nothing special. Hand outs, schedules, patrolling duty, etc. They spoke a few words, discussed their holidays briefly. Once the train stopped at Hogwarts, the small talk would stop, especially for Hermione and Draco, and the subtle second glances would continue.


Glasses clinked at the Great Hall buzzed with bliss and excitement. Hermione spoke of a few friends back home, Harry and Ron, whom had joined her at the table after doing God knows what in compartments with their posse of guys, chatted about Quidditch as usual, but Mione's attention was with Ginny, her number-one best friend and one of the most interesting people she knew.

"So, what did you get up to on summer hols?" She asked with genuine curiosity.

"Well … there was this guy …" She said loudly. Both girls watched as Ron was distracted from what he was doing to glare at his sister.

"And …?" Mione asked. She grinned at her friend's look. She knew she was making up the story to get her brother going.

"And he was tall and dark and handsome and his name was Winston, and ..." The sixth year girl suppressed a laugh at the look forming on her brother's face before continuing, "Oh, did I neglect to tell you that he's really good in the sack? I should lend him to you sometime."

The look on Ron's face was priceless as he jumped up, his face redder than even his infamous hair. "WHAT?" he roared. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, GIN? I'LL GO FUCK THEM UP!" The girls were laughing so hard their were tears in their eyes as they watched Ron pick his way through the Great Hall, dragging Harry, who was considerably smaller, by the scruff of his robes. He was yelling something about brutal castration, and had drawn attention to himself and the pair of screeching girls. The event didn't go unnoticed; of course, by a certain blond Slytherin had been watching the event from his table. He couldn't make out what they were saying, obviously, but he knew whatever it was, Granger and Mini-Weasel found it hilarious. Picking himself up of the seat, he strutted purposefully over to the Gryffindor table.

Little Granger; Isabel, her name was? Suddenly appeared in front of him before he reached the girls, however. She wasn't small; around five foot four, maybe? There was no way her post-Mudblood sister was anywhere past five foot five. Giving the girl his best scowl and looking down his nose at her, he didn't even try to speak before she said in a loud, bold, yet still monotone voice, "Good morning, my Lord. How may I be of service?" It was already ridiculous, but when she managed a curt bow, he was disgusted. He didn't see her amusement in the situation, and brushed passed her, not seeing her stick out her tongue childishly at his action before taking a seat at the other end of the Gryffindor table. Hermione and Ginny had their backs to the Malfoy standing behind them.

"Granger. Weaselette." He spoke with scorn, hearing the Head girl sigh as she tilted her head back and looked at him from an upside down angle.

"Hello, Malfoy." He heard Granger speak. She had an 'I-really-don't-want-to-deal-with-you-today' tone of voice. He obviously wouldn't be able to get a rise out of her today. Considering his substitute, he shrugged and looked at the littlest Weasley.

"From that sick display, I'd say Potter finally confessed his undying love for your brother. Great that he's come out of the closet. Though please, tell them to stay to the side of the hallways so I can pretend not to see him and Weasel," He said, smirking at Ginny, "Snogging when I go out to do my rounds."

His comment may have bothered the fiery haired girl, as she'd just gotten out of a relationship with Harry that was going nowhere. But she merely sighed. "That all you can say, Malfoy? You're losing your touch."

He chuckled, and ignored the comment. "Now, I know you two would love to stare at my gorgeous body for hours on end, but so would others. I have a feeling I'll get more action somewhere else. Adios!" And so he turned and strutted away, returning to his sniggering posse of Slytherins. He didn't notice that Hermione had been sneaking little glances at him while listening to his rude comments.

When Hermione finally found Harry and Ron for their first class of the morning, which was Transfiguration, it was halfway over. They had then gotten into a heated debate about Ginny's earlier comment. She told Ron that Ginny was joking. She told Ron he needed to calm down, and not take everything so seriously. After convincing him he really needed a life, Transfigurations was over and the trio headed off to, yes, Potions. They'd be luck if they made it in with a minute to spare.

A/N: Yes, this is a repost. I removed the story, edited it a bit, and decided what the heck; let's have another go at this. I have so much homework right now that I don't know when I'm going to have time to work on this story, but I promise I will try.