Heart of Ice

            "Harry! Ron!" Hermione cried, running up to each and hugging them in turn, Ron turning the famous Weasley crimson.

           "Ron, are you alright? You look a bit flushed," Harry teased. Ron glared at him, causing Harry to break into boyish giggles. Hermione rolled her eyes. Even though Ron had gotten over her, he still couldn't take a hug from any girl without blushing furiously. It was the Weasley curse, she supposed.

           "It's great to see you two!" Hermione said, grinning from ear to ear like an idiot. Suddenly, her expression fell ever so slightly as she seemed to remember something. "So," she started nonchalantly, making her way towards the platform, "You two must have been awfully busy in Romania. That one letter you sent didn't give many details..." She let the sentence trail off, gave a quick glance to either side of her to make sure no Muggles were watching, then walked through the barrier between platforms 9 and 10. Harry and Ron quickly followed.

           "We were more than just busy, Mione! It was bloody brilliant!" gushed the utterly clueless Ron. "The dragons were the greatest things I've ever seen! We even got to ride one. Oh! And we saw Norbert! It's a shame you weren't there, Mione." Harry sensed more than saw Hermione bristle.

          "The dragons were pretty cool," Harry shrugged like it was nothing, wanting the subject to drop. Thankfully, it did, as Ron started rambling about how well the Weasley Twins' new shop was doing.

           The train ride was uneventful. Ron was gorging contentedly on a bag of 'Hairy Berries', (Fred and George's latest creation), which, unbeknownst to him, were making him sprout atrocious fuschia facial hair. Hermione was poring over her latest book, '1, 257 Uses For Dragon Scales, Plus 1, 043 For Their Eyelashes'. If there was one thing the Wizarding world could certainly stand to learn from Muggles, it was how to title a book. Harry noticed that Hermione glanced up at the door to their compartment ever once in a while, as if expecting something. He was just wondering what it could be when the door flew open to reveal a very lost and disheveled looking Crabbe and Goyle. Without Malfoy, Harry realized. He frowned in confusion, momentarily forgetting to be cruel to the troll-like boys. "What are you two doing without Malfoy?" he asked, genuinely curious. Hermione shifted slightly, but Harry barely noticed.

           Crabbe and Goyle exchanged nervous glances, an odd emotion to see on two boys who obviously had nothing to fear from the inhabitants of this compartment. Even if they wanted to hex them, Harry and Ron were too afraid they'd pay for it later in a more... physical way. Harry could still feel the pain they'd encountered in the beginning of fifth year. "You, uh..." Crabbe started. Goyle was looking about the compartment as if his life depended on discovering its every secret. "Draco's not here. Not on the train."

           Harry jerked his head towards Ron, who looked like a child, (albeit a very hairy and pink child), on Christmas morning. "Really??! Maybe the slimy git got transferred! Or expelled!" Ron cried enthusiastically. The two thugs glowered at him. "Sorry," he mumbled. "So... why are you here?"

           "Do you know where he is?" Goyle asked frantically. Harry was surprised at the boys' concern. He'd always assumed that Crabbe and Goyle were only Draco's shadows because his father paid them to be his body- guards. Obviously he'd been mistaken.

           "You mean, you two don't know where he is?" Hermione asked in quiet surprise. Harry glanced at her. She had that look she always got when she was trying to work out a near impossible arithmancy problem. Goyle, who seemed to be the brighter of the two, shook his head.

           "He didn't owl to meet us in Diagon Alley. Not normal." Hermione frowned.

           "Did you owl him?"

           "Kubby couldn't find him." Ron snickered at this.

           "Kubby? You call your owl Kubby?" Goyle grunted in response. Hermione furrowed her brow.

           "What do you two care where he is anyways? He treats you terribly. Personally, I say you're better off without him," she stated matter-of- factly. Much to the surprise of the Dream Team, Crabbe and Goyle whipped out their wands; they usually resorted to more conventional methods.

           "Draco's a friend," Crabbe snarled. Goyle nodded.

           "Don't say that again," he warned, before motioning for Crabbe to follow him out into the hall.

           The three friends sat in silence for a moment, before Ron burst out laughing. "Did you see the looks on their faces!? They had no clue what to do! 'He's a friend', yeah right. And I'm Albus Dumbledore," he snickered. Hermione looked thoughtful.

           "Well, maybe he is a friend to them. I mean, who else would tolerate their stupidity?"

           "It's not like Malfoy's all that bright himself," Ron snapped. "And he needs body-guards. Besides, they'll adjust. They're just not used to this freedom, that's all. I'm happy for them."

           "Ron's right. You even said yourself a moment ago that they were better off."

           "That's true. I'm not saying that infuriating ferret is any less...Slytherin, but maybe those two actually..." Hermione trailed off, seeming reluctant to say whatever she was thinking.

           "What?" Ron and Harry asked. Hermione shrugged.

           "Maybe they actually like him." They pondered this for a moment, before Ron raised a suggestive eyebrow and grinned.

           "I always suspected they swung that way." The trio burst out laughing, and moved on to happier thoughts.

           They arrived at Hogwarts just in time as far as Harry was concerned. While living with Charlie in Romania Harry had gotten used to eating regularly, and he was starving. The summer had treated him well, actually, if he did say so himself. His hair was every bit as wild, but he was no longer thin and gangly. He'd grown to a comfortable 6 feet tall, and muscles he didn't even know he had had popped up seemingly over night. Even his face was more mature, handsome even. Ron had grown over the summer too, but the changes weren't as drastic. He'd always been tall, though not the 6 ft 3 he was now, and his muscles had started to show at the end of sixth year. Harry grinned to himself. Neither of them had any trouble with the opposite sex.

           As Harry and Ron passed, Hermione at their side, a stream of giggles sounded up from a group of Third Years. Hermione made a disgusted sound, but other than that just shook her head good naturedly. Soon, they were entering the Great Hall.

           "Hey Ron, who do you think will--" Harry blinked at the empty space to the right of him where Ron should have been. Hermione noticed his absence as well, and they turned around. Ron was standing statue still, his mouth agape, his expression one of horror. What in Merlin's name is wrong with that git? Harry thought exasperatedly.

           He followed his gaze...

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             Hermione sighed silently to herself. Those bloody Third Years had to go and remind her that her friends were much more popular than she. Oh, well. She figured that she would much rather be focused and unpopular than unfocused and popular.

           Harry suddenly spoke, interrupting her comforting, --and not so comforting–, thoughts. "Hey Ron, who do you think will--" He stopped, and Hermione turned to see that Ron had disappeared. Confused, she spun around to find him standing like an idiot in the middle of the Hall's entrance, mouth hanging open in a very horrified expression. She followed his path of sight, and instantly wished she hadn't.

           Standing About twenty feet away, speaking to--or rather, being spoken to--by Dumbledore, was Draco Malfoy. A much taller, better built Draco Malfoy than Hermione remembered from last year. His robes were wrinkle free and immaculate as usual, his shoes polished to the max. He was leaning against the Slytherin table with an air of boredom, although Hermione noticed a spark behind his steel grey eyes that said otherwise. Whatever Dumbledore was saying, Draco was listening. His hair, which had been slicked back in a decidedly vampiric manner until the year before, was free and loose. He absent-mindedly brushed back a few strands out of his eyes, then nodded slightly to the Headmaster, before strolling away like he owned the place. Hermione noticed Dumbledore follow Draco's movements with an amused twinkle in his eyes, before shaking his head slightly and walking up to the Head Table. Merlin, is that the same boy I found that night? He certainly seems to have recovered, which means soon he can answer my questions about what exactly happened to him. Hmph. I'm not even sure the bastard deserved to be healed. God I hate him!

           Ceasing her steady glare, Hermione turned to Ron and Harry and shrugged. "He hasn't changed that much more than you two," she said dismissively. Harry and Ron exchanged looks then tried unsuccessfully to stifle yet another fit of giggles. "WHAT?" she snapped irritably, turning red with embarrassment and confusion. Hermione hated to be laughed at for any reason. Ron held up a hand, signifying that he needed a moment to collect himself, then answered.

           "You were so busy checking him out you didn't even notice what we were so shocked at!" Hermione now turned a deep scarlet, and growled angrily.

"I most certainly was NOT checking out Draco Malfoy!" she whispered through gritted teeth, making sure nobody could over-hear. They walked to the Gryffindor table, Harry and Ron still chuckling. Hermione regained her composure. "Okay. The stupid sodding ferret looks better this year and I couldn't help but notice. I'm only human for Merlin's sake, and don't think I didn't notice you and Ron gawking at that horrible Blaise Zabini last year." Harry shrugged. "We know you hate him, just like we hate Zabini," he allotted, "So don't worry. It's just that you never slip up like that," he chuckled. "Hormones. What can you do?" Ron laughed at this, before becoming serious.

           "Ugh. What are we going to do?!" he asked theatrically.

           "What's wrong?" Hermione asked. "What startled you so badly back there?" Harry and Ron exchanged nervous glances. "What. Is. It?" she asked dangerously, annoyed by their hesitation. She knew this tone of voice would get their attention. Nobody wanted to be on Hermione Granger's bad side, not even her best friends.

           "He had on a, er, badge...." Ron started gently, as if Hermione would crack at the news.

           "Hermione, Malfoy is Head Boy. You're stuck with him all bloody year," Harry finished. Hermione paled, and sighed, putting her head in her hands.

           "Why me?"

           "If he tries anything, we'll put a stop to it for you. Don't worry Hermione," Ron said protectively.

           "I can take care of myself, but I thank you for your concern," she said, trying not to offend Ron's delicate ego. "I'm more worried about the over-all stress of being stuck with that bastard all year. We have to plan things, together, and...ugh." Her friends patted her back sympathetically and waited for the sorting to finish. Hermione honestly couldn’t believe this. Sure, she was glad he wasn’t dead. And, yes, for some inexplicable reason she desperately wanted to know what had happened to him, but she did not want to be stuck with the git all year!

           Suddenly, there was a loud scream from the other side of the hall. Everyone turned to see a formerly thin, now very fat Pansy Parkinson dressed in nothing but Granny-like bra and underwear, running away from a very smug looking Draco Malfoy. Suddenly his icy eyes met Hermione's warm ones, and an unreadable expression crossed his face before he turned away, lazily pocketing his wand. Hermione furrowed her brow. What was that expression? Did that even count as an expression? I hate it when I can’t read people!

           McGonagall went over to yell at him, but Crabbe and Goyle insisted that they were to blame, and she was forced to let Malfoy off the hook. They even take detentions for him! There are no consequences to anything he does! Poor Pansy. I hope Madam Pomfrey can fix her...even she doesn't deserve to suddenly look like Harry's cousin. She must have been clinging to him again. What does she see in him? Why does she bother?

           Most of the hall had gone back to watching the sorting, but Hermione continued to watch Malfoy. As soon as McGonagall started to stalk back up to Head Table, Draco whispered something under his breath. She tripped on her robes and fell on her face, eliciting huge guffaws of laughter from the Slytherins. The teachers, (even Snape, much to Hermione's surprise), jumped up to help her.

           Hermione narrowed her eyes. Malfoy did deserve what he'd gotten that night.

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