Life without danger is a waste of oxygen

Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood on platform nine-and-three-quarters and looked at one another. They were in their final year at Hogwarts, and over the holidays, they had received various pieces of information from Professor Dumbledore about what their final year would entail. As well as doing four subjects at N.E.W.T level, (potions, DADA and transfiguration as well as any other of their choice), they would have to do a lot of other lessons to prepare them for what they would unavoidably have to face in the end.

Voldemort was on the rise. There had been killings reported in The Daily Prophet increasingly often, muggle and wizard alike. Harry would soon have to face him in a very final duel that would decide the fate of the world. Hermione and Ron had persuaded Harry that they would stand by him till the end, and Dumbledore had accepted that they had proved themselves trustworthy and to be true friends. This year seemed very bleak; the prospect of war was terrifying. Yet they had to be prepared because the war was inevitable--it was coming, as unstoppable as a train.

Harry was to take Occlumency lessons again this year, although after his last attempt, he was not convinced that he stood any chance of learning to do it. Ron was to take lessons in strategy techniques and Hermione was to train as a mediwitch. The three were also going to have to train in physical combat with weapons and learn any other spells which could come to use. They doubted they would have any time for anything else other than training; it was going to be hard, but they were all grimly determined. This was going to be a busy year for everyone.

**********

Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were in the top carriage as the train pulled into the station. Dumbledore looked tired this year, older than he ever had before. McGonagall was startled at the change, for Albus had always seemed ageless. The change in Dumbledore worried her more than anything the Prophet could write, for it truly meant that Voldemort's strength was growing. They looked out the window and saw a tall, muscular, and very handsome lad standing amongst a group of Slytherins.

"Do you think it's too late for him?" McGonagall asked Dumbledore, her voice soft in the still air of the carriage.

"On the contrary, I do not, Minerva," he replied in a strong voice that belied his tired appearance. His eyes twinkled. "He is a very powerful boy and I don't think you realise it yet. No, what the boy needs is someone he can trust, someone who will love him and show him that if he can love, then the light side has something worth fighting for."

"But what...?" she began.

"Now, now, Minerva, not what, but who," Dumbledore gestured in the direction of Hermione still standing on the platform with Ron and Harry. McGonagall looked out and then her eyes widened in shock as she suddenly realised what Dumbledore was insinuating.

"No! That is absolutely preposterous. You simply cannot force that poor girl into a relationship with that arrogant child," she spat. "Hermione is a bright and studious girl, who happens to be very naive. You will ruin whatever innocence she has left in her."

"And you don't think that with the approaching doom that that won't happen anyway? Besides, I have found out some potentially interesting information about her ancestors. It is dark. Minerva, I will do what I must for the greater good," he replied, his face suddenly deadly serious. "I have studied this from every angle. There is no other way to bring the boy into the light. Draco is starved of love. His family and friends have never shown him love or true loyalty--only misguided loyalty. They have beaten him and brain washed him into believing that love is respect and that it can only be given to those with power. He thinks that power is everything, and if we don't do something soon then he shall realize just exactly what powers he possesses, and that could destroy us all. Hermione, Harry and Ron can show him what real friendship is."

"But they're just children, and enemies at that. He's in Slytherin and they're in Gryffindor."

"I thought you were promoting inter-house relations these days, Minerva."

"I have always done that. At the end of the day, I can promote all I like and it will make no difference. You know that, Albus."

"But do I? You must admit that you hold a rather prejudiced view."

"Of course I do! How could I not after what I went through? I am telling you, from my own experiences, please don't do this. No good will come of it."

"Minerva, I do what needs to be done. Now, please reconcile yourself to this. It is the only way. If you are right, we still have no choice. Doomed if you do, doomed if you don't. This situation, it's bigger than you and I, bigger than Hogwarts and all its pupils. We have to remember that. Do I count on your support for this going ahead?" He looked her dead in the eye. She sighed, knowing that everything he'd said was true.

"I don't agree with it, but you know I'm always with you," she replied, retreating wearily from the carriage to shed one soft tear for the unrepressed memories that threatened her very existence.

***********************************

When everybody was on the train and settled into their compartments, a small boy burst into the carriage where Harry, Hermione and Ron sat were sitting, the boy looked positively terrified.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said, looking even more scared. "Excuse me, but the Headmaster wants you to go along to the top carriage."

"What, all of us?" Ron asked, looking confused.

"No, please. Only you, Miss," he nodded at Hermione and then turned and fled.

"Well," Hermione said, standing up with a frown. "I better go and see what's going on."

As she made her way to the top carriage she began wondering what Dumbledore wanted. She knew it had nothing to do with the Order, as something like that could not be discussed in public places. There were too many people like... she looked up.

"Malfoy! What are you doing wandering around up here?" she called out to the back of the platinum blond head. The boy in front of her turned around in his usual lazy demeanor and she almost fainted. When did Malfoy get so hot? He had certainly grown a lot over summer. He had grown to six foot two and his shoulders were so broad and...

"That's none of your business, Mudblood," he snapped. "Why don't you just run along with your little friends and try to stick to things that actually concern you, you meddlesome little bitch."

"What did you just call me?" Hermione asked, glaring at the boy--well...man, she thought. However, before Draco could reply, Dumbledore opened the carriage door and held it aside as he ushered them both in.

"Now, Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore nodded at them, "you're probably wondering why I called you both in here." He paused but neither said a word, though both wore puzzled expressions, so he continued. "Well, it has been brought to my attention that a Head Boy and Girl have not been chosen yet, and who better to choose but our two brightest pupils?" They both stared back at him without a word. Hermione began to grin she was so excited, but Draco just stared back uninterested. "Well," he continued. "There'll be a number of duties which you will carry out together, a list of which will be in your shared common room."

"We have to share a common room?" Hermione asked.

"Of course, and attend social events together."

"I'm not sharing a common room with that filthy little mudbl..." He stopped as Dumbledore looked at him mildly. "I take great pride in my things and would not want anything to get dirty."

"Ah," began Dumbledore looking amused, "now, that could be a slight problem. I assumed you would accept, Mister Malfoy, so I made no reservations for you in the Slytherin commons. The only space left is in a dormitory with nine new first years."

Draco scowled and muttered something that sounded like "fine." It seemed that he was resigned to his fate.

Dumbledore smiled. His eyes twinkled as he took in Malfoy's surly exterior. "Excellent. Now I see you are both taking the same subjects this term so you will be in classes together too. In fact, I believe you are the only two in the school taking Ancient Runes and Magic class. Well, we will be arriving shortly so nip next door and change into your uniforms. You will be sharing a carriage to the Great Hall."

Hermione got up went into the next carriage along, into which it seemed their trunks had already been moved. Draco followed her through the door.

"Turn around!" She demanded with her hand on her curvy hip, an indignant expression on her face.

"Oh please, like I give a bloody damn." Hermione simply raised her eyebrows and glared at him. "Fine," he said turning around. "I wouldn't want to hurt my eyes looking at the body of a Mudblood anyway."

Hermione took off her jumper and took out her robes. Draco looked up and caught her reflection in the window. 'Wow-wee,' he thought. 'Where was she hiding those melons? Hang on, did I just say wow-wee?' Draco shuddered at the thought. He continued to watch as Hermione took off her top and was just in a very tight vest top and bra; she then pulled her robes on over it.

"You can turn around now," she said.

"Right," Draco's throat was suddenly very dry. A faint flush tinged his cheeks as he caught his reflection in that same window, and he cursed his pale complexion. He pulled off his jumper and put his robes on. Then they sat opposite each other and stared anywhere but at each other, Hermione's eyes took in the door, the window, the floor, in fact anything that was not the boy sitting in front of her.

"So, Malfoy," Hermione said reluctantly bringing her eyes up to his face. "How was your summer? Did Daddy take you muggle-hunting?" she asked with a slightly cold laugh. Draco's eyes narrowed with anger, but then he sat back lazily in his chair.

"Well actually, it was quite an eventful summer. I learned croquet. How was yours?"

"I, ummm, did some reading." Hermione immediately felt appalled with herself for acting so childishly. "Malfoy, you and I have never really gotten along, but this is going to be a really long year if we can't get along. It would make sense for us to call a truce and get on with what we have to do."

"Correction--we have never gotten along. And why would I want to make a truce with you?" Malfoy retorted with narrowed eyes.

"For the reason I just said," Hermione responded simply, looking at him like she thought he must be just a little bit dense to have missed that.

'Damn' he thought, realising that his retort might not have been as snappy as he'd first thought. "Granger, you and I are not on the same wavelength. I am a Malfoy! Do you even know what that means?"

"That you have blond baby hair and have perfected that Malfoy scowl?"

Draco began to scowl and then immediately tried to stop himself. "You'll remember your manners when you're talking to me, witch!" he hissed at her, his face a livid red with anger and indignation, how dare this jumped-up little mudblood talk down to him!

Hermione saw that he was shaking a little. She reached out and touched his arm. "I don't want to offend you," she told him softly. "I would like us to get along, though. And I can be very nice when you get to know me. If you give me a chance."

Draco was taken aback by her kindness after he had been so cruel to her. Although he was wearing robes, he could almost feel her soft fingers on his skin. "Fine," he muttered. "This truce doesn't extend to The-Boy-Who-Lived and his gormless tit of a mate Weasel though." Hermione smiled at him and he stared deep into her eyes, noticing for the first time how beautiful they were, like caramel and hazelnuts. 'What is she doing to me?' he asked himself. He badly wanted to touch her face. "So, are you ready to go?" he finally asked, shaking himself out of his daydream.

"Yeah, so what do I call you?"

"Well, one usually goes by one's name?" Draco responded with a smirk.

"No, I mean if we're on a truce then I should maybe call you Draco?" It made him tingle to hear her call him that.

"Okay, Hermione," he said grudgingly. "Just not in public, alright? I do have a reputation to keep up. After you." He gestured Hermione out the door, checking her out before he followed. He liked what he saw, and that was a very surprising revelation.

'Man, when did she get so hot?' he wondered to himself.

**********

Harry and Ron got off the train still wondering what the news was. Hermione hadn't returned, and Harry was burning to know what had happened. Harry pulled Ron aside out of the flow of people as soon as they were off the Hogwarts Express and were standing on the platform in Hogsmeade.

"Ron," he began, "can I ask you something?"

"'Course, what's up, mate?" Ron asked, looking a bit confused by Harry's demeanor.

"I, ummm, I really like your sister," Harry blurted out in a rush before he lost his nerve.

"You what?" Ron looked angry for a second, and then seemed to shrug and relax as Harry went on.

"Ginny. I really like her and I thought I should tell you."

"Okay," Ron said calmly, his anger fading completely. This wasn't Dean Thomas or Michael Corner; it was his best friend. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"What?" Harry looked like he'd been whacked in the face by a troll.

"Now you've realised you like her, what happens now?" Ron enjoyed the look on Harry's face.

"W-w-well, I was thinking of asking her to the next social, if you don't mind," Harry stuttered. "Or maybe Hogsmeade. I haven't really thought about it too much."

"Of course not. Look, mate, just don't get too attached. When we leave, we're not taking her with us. I won't take my baby sister with us." Ron looked deadly serious at Harry. The inevitable journey would have to be made this year. They just did not know when.

"I know, and I would never want to. Enough of the people I care about could be hurt as it is." The two boys smiled at each other wearily and made their way over to the Great Hall for supper.

**********

As they all stepped into the Great Hall, Harry looked up and noticed that Hermione was sitting at the top table with Malfoy. She glanced down and spotted Harry, giving him a look to tell him that she'd explain it all later, so he sat down.

"Bring out the Sorting Hat please." Professor Dumbledore called out, twinkling and smiling at the petrified first years.

The Hat was brought out and placed on a stool at the front. It began to sing:

"So another year,

Brings more to fear,

Within these Hogwarts walls.

All lives at stake,

We all shall quake,

And in will come the calls.

Salazar says all be cunning,

Use your wit and charm.

Know where to hide and keep a-running,

If you're to be safe from harm.

Says smart Rowena, work it out,

For all puzzles leave a clue.

Find out what it's all about,

Then you shall know what to do.

Helga Hufflepuff says stand tough,

For together you are many.

Be prepared for a lot of rough,

And beware of the very bad penny.

Says Godric, arm yourselves for fight,

With swords and shields and knives.

Stay awake all through the night,

If you're to keep your lives.

So my warnings you must heed,

Although I'm just a Hat.

I am wise and know all you need,

I'm not just a pile of tat.

All four houses must combine,

For it is now or never.

Four will lead you through this time,

For Hogwarts to live on forever.

There was silence all around as everyone thought about what the Hat had just said. Wasn't it meant to read a joyful song about the four different houses and the attributes of each?

"First years," McGonagall called out. "When I call your names you must come up and put the hat on, when the hat calls out your house you may go and join your new table. Pork, Katherine." The girl approached the hat looking like she thought it was going to eat her, as it was plonked on her head by McGonagall, her knees shook so badly it was visible to the people at the very back of the hall.

Only a second later and "Hufflepuff!" shouted the hat. The little girl scrambled off the stool and ran over to her table.

"Lewis, Sandra,"

"Slytherin!"

"Plumb, George,"

"Gryffindor!"

"Greengrass, Esmeralda"

"Slytherin!"

This continued until all the first year students had been housed. There were far fewer of them this year than there had been in the previous years, another ominous sign of the fast upcoming war.

"Welcome," Professor Dumbledore called out. "Before we eat, I must let you all know that the Head Boy and Girl have been chosen." He gestured to Draco and Hermione. "Prefects of the houses have already been chosen. Those who received a prefect badge with their usual Hogwarts letter should report to Professor McGonagall after the feast. Now, without further ado, let us befuddle ourselves with our excellent feast."

The noise in the Great Hall suddenly became horrendous. With mouths full of food, the students began swapping stories about their summers and what lessons they were having this year.

Ron had chosen to continue with Professor Trelawny for his fourth subject, whereas Harry was continuing with Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.

"Hermione's Head Girl," Harry said. "That's great."

"No, it isn't." Ron replied.

"Why not?"

"She'll have to spend all her time with Malfoy. I don't trust him and I certainly don't trust him around her."

"Do you trust anyone around her?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I've seen the way you look at her. You love her, don't you?"

Ron blushed so much you couldn't see where his hairline began.

"Yeah, so what? You love her too."

"I love her in a different way. She's like a sister to me."

"You won't tell her will you, Harry?"

"Course not, mate. I think you should though. There are a lot of guys in here that would love a chance with her. She has certainly, umm, matured over summer."

Ron's fist clenched under the table. He had never felt this way about anybody, ever since he had seen her at the ball in fourth year. The idea of her being with another guy made him feel ill. He wanted her for himself. Luckily, Harry didn't notice, as he was tucking into seconds without giving a second thought to the conversation he had just had with Ron.

When Ron finished he made his way over to Professor McGonagall about the prefects meeting.

"Well, this is only short as you're all tired," McGonagall said. "I just wanted you all to see each other so that you know who'll be working together this year."

Ron looked around to see who the other prefects were. He knew of course that Ginny had been sent a prefect badge this summer, to take over Hermione's place. The other prefects were Pansy and Blaise from Slytherin, Hannah and Ernie from Hufflepuff and Terry and Padma from Ravenclaw.

After eating, Dumbledore led Hermione and Draco to their new dorms and shared common room that would be their home for the next year. The painting outside was of a strange man with a feather in his hat and his feet resting on a desk as he chewed a quill. "New pair, is it, Dumbledore?" he asked in a whining nasal voice. "Well, so be it, I suppose." He sighed, leant his chair against the wall and promptly began to snore.

"I ask you to choose carefully. What will your password be?" Dumbledore asked them, smiling kindly from behind his half-moon spectacles.

"'Pureblood'," Draco replied.

Dumbledore frowned gently. "No, that will not do Draco, think of Hermione, do not be unfair." Dumbledore smiled, "You must both agree you know, that is the way of passwords in these shared situations. If both do not agree, the password will only work for the one who did not agree to it. I'm afraid the paintings do like to be controversial like that." He smiled again, looking much like an aged grandfather, although both knew him to be nothing of the sort.

"How about 'S.P.E.W.'?" Hermione asked.

"'Spew'? What kind of a password is 'spew'?" Draco sniggered.

"It's not spew, it's S.P.E.W., and it stands for the Society For..."

"Yea, yea, whatever. What about 'muggle-land'?"

"Err, okay," Hermione replied, confused by the choice, but deciding that it was better than 'Pureblood'.

"Well, I believe we have a password," Dumbledore said. "Have you got that Nigellius?" The man in the painting woke up again with a snort and nodded as the portrait swung open. "Well then, I bid you both goodnight," said Dumbledore, then he left with a wave.

Draco and Hermione walked in and looked around. Their common room was very large. It consisted of a large table with four chairs and two very comfy sofas. The rest of the room was taken up with shelves and shelves of books, thousands of them. Hermione looked up at them all in awe. She then looked down at Draco who had made himself immediately comfortable on the sofa as he lit up a cigarette.

"You can't smoke that in here! You'll get expelled, and besides, do you know how bad those things are for you?" she said, shocked and indignant. How dare he pollute her air as well?

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Draco put on his very bored face. "It'll send me to an early grave and its very bad for my complexion. Yada, yada, yada. You'd make a great mum." He lifted his head back and blew a perfect succession of smoke rings, something he'd seen muggles do. It had been very difficult but he had practiced so hard that he now had it down to perfection.

"Okay, well that stuff is bad for my health and I don't want it in here." Hermione glared down at him with her hands on her hips, trying not to breathe.

"Get used to it. You were the one who was happy to share with me."

"I said, I don't want it here!"

"And what are you going to do about it?" Draco sneered.

"Aguamenti!" Hermione said, pointing her wand at Draco's cigarette. A gust of water came out, much stronger than Hermione had intended. It not only put out the cigarette, but also soaked Malfoy. 'Mmmm,' she thought. 'He looks quite sexy when he's wet'.

"Viniasortia!" Draco shouted with his wand pointing at Hermione. Red wine shot out of the end of his wand showered Hermione. She screeched at him, and then broke down into helpless giggles when she caught sight of her reflection, which Draco took as her telling him to stop.

"Accio glasses," Draco said and two glasses flew over to him. "Viniasortia," he said again, this time more softly. The wine trickled out of his wand and filled the glasses. "Care to join me?" It was odd, him offering her a drink after six years of being enemies. Draco didn't want to get along with her but he felt unable to do anything but be nice to her at the moment.

Despite being furious at being covered in wine (and still trying not to laugh), Hermione could not stop thinking how hot Draco looked with his hair slightly tousled from the water, so she sat next to him and took a glass, sipping only a little.

"You know we could get into a lot of trouble for this."

"Having a glass of wine in the evening? Wow, Granger, you're really walking on the wild side."

"Are you not having any?" she asked him, ignoring his last snarky comment.

"No, I prefer whiskey in the evenings."

"Then why have you poured out wine?" she asked with a smile.

"I don't know how to conjure whiskey yet," he said, going slightly pink as Hermione grinned at him.

"I'm surprised you know how to conjure wine. It's more advanced than N.E.W.T level."

"Yes, well, I'm full of surprises."

"I can conjure champagne. I learnt just in case I ever had anything to celebrate." Hermione looked down quickly, why had she said that? She suddenly felt very dumb and clumsy.

Draco watched, as she turned slightly pink. He stared at her beautiful long hair. 'When did her hair stop being so bushy? Her curls are beautiful.'

"I can bake," he said.

Hermione looked up and giggled in shock.

"Like muggle-bake or with magic?" she asked.

"Like muggle-bake, and I don't mean little fairy cakes. I can bake exquisite delicacies from the finest recipes."

Hermione burst out laughing. "Strange pastime for a Malfoy, but hey, if you enjoy it you should bake all you want," she said. Draco suddenly realised how good it felt just to cheer her up. "Well, I can sing," Hermione said with a blush, trying to make him feel better about her jibe at his baking.

"Go on then," Draco smiled.

"Not now," Hermione said, blushing furiously.

"Why not?" he asked, curious.

"You're watching me."

Draco shut his eyes. Hermione looked at the pale perfection of his skin. No spots or blemishes, just pale, beautiful skin. She had never spent time with him before without him hurling insults, not in the six years they had known each other. She had to admit to herself, it felt nice.

"Well?" he asked, his eyes still shut.

"I can fire a cross-bow perfectly," she replied, changing the subject.

"Now, where on earth did you learn to use a cross-bow?" he asked in spite of himself.

"Ah, that would be telling." She wagged a finger at him.

"I can do a perfect patronus."

"What is it?" she gazed at him eager to hear more.

"What's yours?" he retorted, childishly.

"Mine's an otter." Hermione took a large swig of her wine.

"A what?"

"An otter. It's said to be a strong protector who helps with gaining wisdom, finding inner treasures or valuable talents, faithfulness, and the ability to recover from any crisis," Hermione recited. "Now what's yours?"

"I'm not telling."

"You have to, I told you mine." Hermione was also in the childish mood.

"Okay, shut your eyes, and when I tell you to open them, you'll see."

Hermione shut her eyes and waited. Draco really wanted to kiss her. She looked so beautiful it took all his might not to.

"Expecto patronum," he said, and a dragon came out of his wand. "You can look now."

Hermione opened her eyes but saw nothing.

"I don't see anything," she told him.

"Oh," he said. Draco sounded really disappointed and stared down at the ground. Hermione saw the hurt in him and wondered why. He looked almost vulnerable, like a small child. Hermione suddenly longed to throw her arms round him and comfort him. She took another swig of her wine and looked up.

"Draco, I see it." His heart leaped as she said his name.

"What is it then?"

"It's a dragon. I should have guessed," she smiled foolishly.

"Describe it," he ordered, excited.

"Oh, Draco, it's beautiful. It's grey, just like your eyes, with such long talons. What breed is it?"

"It's a Ukrainian Ironbelly. The largest breed of dragon there is." Draco waved it away. "Hermione can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she replied drinking another large swig.

"I put a charm on my patronus, so that none of my enemies could see it. Only people who cared about me."

"Right," she said, slightly slurring.

"So what does this mean?" He looked eager and fragile all at once.

"I, ummm..."

Draco leaned in to kiss her, for once not thinking of the reality of the situation, and simply just following his heart.

"Draco," Hermione said pulling away before he could kiss her. "Draco, I think I'm really drunk."

"I'm sorry," he replied. "Maybe you should go to bed."

Hermione stood up and then promptly fell over. Draco caught her swiftly and carried her into her room. He was surprised at how light she was. He put her on the bed and pulled the sheet over her and then sat on the side of the bed watching her sleep.

Draco felt so strange yet so comfortable at the same time. It was as though something strange was happening and he didn't have a clue what was going on.

"Good-night, Hermione. I'll see you in the morning," Draco whispered in her ear. He then left and went into his own room to go to sleep. He could not get Hermione off his mind. Draco shut his eyes and imagined that he was lying next to her, stroking her hair. For the first time in a long while, he fell asleep peacefully.