When All You Know Is Wrong

LadyBlueEyes- thank you so much for the review, I wasn't sure how people would react to the story and you have
word that I wil update as often as the next chapter comes to me.

LadyVoldemort87- thanks for the review, i'm hoping to update at least 2 times a week.
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Hermione walked onto the train with all of her friends as usual, but this year was different. Harry and Ron were talking while Ginny was walking beside them, holding Harry's hand. Hermione lagged behind the group, not wanting to seem suspicious, but not sure she could handle being next to Ron after what he had done to her.

Ginny looked behind her and noticed that Hermione was falling behind. She took her hand from Harry's and went back to talk to her friend, knowing that something had to be wrong.

"Hey 'Mione, what's up?" she asked.

Hermione shook herself out of the daze she was in to look at the redhead girl and answer.

"Nothing, just thinking. This is going to be my last year here. It's still so hard to believe. It seems like yesterday that I was walking into the Great Hall to be sorted into my house," she said, hoping that Ginny believed her excuse, not bein able to bear seeing pity in her friend's eyes.

"It'll be fine. Soon enough you won't even miss it, you'll be so caught up in whatever amazing job you decide to go after. You'll see, besides, this year will be better than any before. Try not to think about it too much."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. She had believed her.

Ron, Harry, and Ginny stopped, waiting for Hermione to catch back up in the hall. Ron put his hand on her lower back and she wasn't able to suppress the shiver of disgust that ran through her. Ron, though, took it as a shiver of pleasure and grinned down at her.

"So, shall we find a compartment then?" he asked the group.

Hermione looked up at all of them.

"I can't. I have to go to the Head's compartment. Dumbledore is there to fill myself and the Head Boy in on our duties, then we have to have a prefects meeting. It'll probably take most of the ride."

Harry and Ginny looked forlorn, and while everyone believed Ron was disappointed, Hermione could see the rage seething behind his eyes.

"Who's Head Boy this year, 'Mione?" he practically spat.

She made sure not to let anyone outwardly see how terrified he was of him. She steadied her voice before she spoke.

"I don't know, but I had better go before I'm late. I'll see you all in the Great Hall."

Hermione took off before anyone could object. She made her way up to the front of the train. She couldn't believe she had just lied to all of her friends. She knew the Head Boy was Malfoy, and she wasn't looking forward to spending a whole year sharing a common room with him. As if things weren't bad enough now, she would then have to deal with Malfoy, along with his friends and his tarts, insulting her whenever she turned around.

'God,' she thought right before she opened the door to the compartment, 'can anything else go wrong?'

When the door was open, she was given the sight of Malfoy, sleeping with his head against the window. Like this, he almost seemed innocent. His pale blonde hair fell over his face, partially covering his eyes and his mouth wasn't shaped into the usual sneer he wore whenever she was around. She could almost call him handsome. That was, until he looked up at her.

"Granger, having fun staring?"

"You wish, Malfoy, I was just thinking."

The moment she took her seat, Professor Dumbledore walked in.

"Well, it is certainly good to see the two top students of their classes getting along. Given your somewhat tense history, the sight of you getting acting as a team should promote the interhouse unity I desire more than anything else. Now to get along to your duties as Heads."

Hermione looked at Malfoy, who looked completely bored and figured that she would end up doing most of the duties.

"It will be your job to hold prefect meetings and give them schedule for rounds, as well as doing round yourself. Any events to be held will be planned by the two of you. If younger students need study groups you will organize them. And you WILL NOT show favoritism towards houses. Any display of this will have your title as Head stripped. Do either of you have any questions?"

Both Hermione and Malfoy shook their heads, indicating they understood all of the terms that were addressed.

"Good, now I believe it is time to call in the prefects for the first meeting."
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Draco watched as the fifth through seventh years filed out of the room once the meeting was done. He knew he had suprised Granger when he had actually taken part in the discussions. Once more the two were left alone.

"Well," she spoke hesitantly, "I should go and change into my robes, we're almost at Hogwarts."

Draco sneered. "Yes, go get those filthy muggle clothes off, they make you seem to be more of a mudblood than you already are."

He was expecting a fight, a comeback, something when he said that. Granger was always good to get a rise out of. But this time, there was no anger, just a pained defeated look in her eyes as her shoulders slumped and she walked out to change.

It never mattered how many times he said those words to her, she always got fired up. It was like someone had taken the fire out of her, and he didn't like it. He could always count on Granger to stand up to him and give him a good fight, but not now. She was like a dog that had been beaten with a stick so that it was afraid to do anything.

He didn't understand it, and when he found himself thinking about it, he was disgusted with himself. What should he care what the little mudblood feels. She's not even worthy to breathe the same air he does.

Yet, for some reason he did care.

Draco summed it up to guilt over what had happened to his mother. That was it. He had seen the same look in his mother's eyes and didn't like it there so he got emotional when he saw it on someone else.

So why did it feel like something more.

Just as he was having his internal debate, Blaise Zabini, his best friend since nappies walked in.

"Draco, how was your summer?"

"The same as always, Blaise. And yours?"

The tall dark boy flopped down onto the seat across from Draco and lounged as he examined his nails.

"Another one of Mother's husbands died so we went to Venice to 'mourn' his passing."

'Ah, another day in the life of the high and mighty purebloods,' thought Draco. To his friend, he spoke, "Give her my condolences, would you? I know how she hates that they all die so young and rich."

As he said this, the train stopped and both boys stood to leave.

"Well, Blaise, I'll see you in the Great Hall. I'm stuck with Granger and the first years."

Blaise grimaced. "Good luck with that, mate. I have a feeling you'll need it."

With that, they parted ways and Draco found himself outside the grounds of Hogwarts with children who seemed so small and frightened.

Granger and he led them to where they would meet that big oaf Hagrid who would take them across the lake and then went on inside himself.

Once he had sat down with his fellow Slytherins, the first years walked in, looking even more frightened if it was possible. They walked down the aisle to the sorting hat and went, one by one as they were called, to find what house they would belong to.

Overall, there were 50 new Hufflepuffs, 68 new Ravenclaws, and 87 new students in each Slytherin and Gryffindor.
Once all the students were seated at their new house tables, Professor Dumbledore stood up and made his annual beginning of the year speech and annouced the he and Granger were the Heads for this year. Then the feast began.

For some reason he couldn't understand, Draco kept glancing at the Gryffindor table throughout the feast, noticing that Weasel was angry with Granger....and what more Scarface never noticed how she inched away from him as though he would hurt her.

Sooner than he realized, the food was gone and it was time to retire for the night. He met Granger and Professor McGonagall, who led them to the Head dorms he would be sharing with Granger for the rest of the year.

As they walked he couldn't put his finger on what was wrong with Granger, and he hated that it bugged him so much. Yet he couldn't help himself. He wanted the fiery Granger back, not this girl who walked beside him who kept looking over her shoulder as though something was going to jump out of the shadows.

It was then he decided that, though he may not care, he would find out what was going wrong so he could stop thinking about what it might be.