Author's Note: Yeah, Youtube has made me mildly obsessed with Dramione-ness. This is AU seventh year, basically, Draco never joined the death eaters, when his father was sent to Azkaban the Death Eaters looked to his mother to give up her son to serve Voldy and she refused, Dumbledore took her and Draco under his protection. Obviously Voldy is gaining strength in this, but it's more like the beginning of HBP- everyone fears him but he's not really doing anything big yet (just killings and that). So the trio stayed at Hogwarts.
A not-so-vague Disclaimer: I own nothing, all belongs to JK Rowling.

Hermione walked into the Head Boy/ Girl compartment of the Hogwarts Express, psyching herself up to the term ahead. When she pushed open the door she was greeted with the sight of the Head Boy snogging a pretty brunette.

"Get out," she said wearily, hoping that she wouldn't have to see him with a string of girls for the whole year, or that he wouldn't be so public with his displays of affection. The pair broke apart and the girl shot Hermione a dirty look before she picked up her bag to leave.

"Bye Amy," the boy said, as she opened the door. The girl shot him a dirty look and ran out of the door.

"Her name is Andrea, Draco." Hermione said, sitting down opposite him and taking a book out of her bag.

"Good to know," he sniggered. He rooted through his bag and came up with a tattered paperback copy of The Two Towers. She raised her eyebrows but opened her own book, not wanting to start a conversation with him. They sat in silence for the next half hour, their eyes fixed on their books and both conscious not to touch the other with their knees. Finally, Draco broke the silence.

"Watcha reading?" He asked in a tone that if he planned on using more than once would lead Hermione to rip his vocal cords out... She really should stop repressing her violent thoughts.

"American Psycho," she said, rolling her eyes.

"What's it about?" He asked again, in the same tone of voice.

"An. American. Psycho. It's kind of self-explanatory." She replied, hoping that he would stop talking to her.

"Is it good?" She had to bite her lip to stop herself from biting his head off.

"No, it's crap. That's why I'm reading it." She said sarcastically.

"Are you going to be like this all year?" He laughed.

"Are you?... Be like what exactly?" She spluttered.

"Acting like you're better than me. Like you're smarter than me."

'Well, I am.' She thought, but decided not to voice her opinion.

"Hello? I'm a Gryffindor, you're a Slytherin… You're some kind of tortured-artist lothario and I…I"

"Think you're better than everyone."

"I do not!"

"Granger, we have four classes together and get the same grades, how exactly am I stupid?"

'You're stupid because all you do is fuck about and flirt with girls and you breeze through life. And you spend too much time on your hair.' She thought.

"You're not… okay? You're Head Boy. I just don't like people who coast by on their looks and don't seem to believe in anything." Was what she actually said. His face clouded and he didn't speak for a moment.

"I believe in a lot of things." He said slowly, clenching a muscle in his jaw as though he wanted to say something else. "And look at your hair and make-up… It's not like you're so above looking good."

Hermione touched her hair self- consciously. Over the summer holidays she had lightened it to a less-boring honey blonde and instead of being bushy, it was smoothly wavy. She hadn't got used to the cut, which meant that she had hair that she was almost constantly pushing out of her eyes, but her Muggle friends had assured her that it suited her. She exhaled, aware that she couldn't win an argument against him without hitting below the belt and bringing up his family.

"Let's just agree that we're both great and maybe we'll get through our first week as Head Boy and Girl without any throat-clawing or eye-gouging." She said, getting back to her book.

"Great," he laughed in surprise. "Fear will regulate our relationship." He mock-saluted her and went back to his book. She pretended to read, skimming the pages and turning them at what seemed like an appropriate interval but inside she was itching to know why Draco Malfoy, proud-pureblood, was reading a muggle book.