The summer holidays were over; they had finally made it on the train, and Hermione and Ron went to see the Head Girl and Boy about instructions. When they made it there, they saw several other students from their year; she guessed the older Prefects already knew what to do. There was Hannah Abbott and Ernie Macmillan from Hufflepuff, Padma Patil and Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw, and from Slytherin, Pansy Parkinson (she sighed) and – Malfoy. He didn't look quite as smug as usual; the casual air was gone, and he lacked his usual pristine appearance, looking in some way, stressed. Hermione didn't recognise the new Head Boy and Girl, for once she wasn't listening; her eyes were focused on Malfoy, whose eyes were firmly on the two seventh-years. Why was he avoiding her gaze? As soon as it had started, the meeting had ended, and Hermione followed Ron down the train (Malfoy hadn't met her eyes at all), searching for Harry.

*

"And guess who's a Slytherin prefect?" Ron asked, his eyes closed as he slumped in his seat.

"Malfoy," Harry answered.

"'Course," Ron verified bitterly.

"And that complete cow Pansy Parkinson," Hermione added, glad she didn't need to be the one to say Malfoy was a prefect, and was happy to insult Pansy. "How she got to be a prefect when she's thicker than a concussed troll..." She trailed off, biting back the insults she could have made.

"We're supposed to patrol the corridors every so often," Ron told Harry and Neville, "and we can give out punishments if people are misbehaving. I can't wait to get Crabbe and Goyle for something..."

"You're not supposed to abuse your position, Ron!" Hermione said sharply.

"Yeah, right, because Malfoy won't abuse his at all," Ron sneered sarcastically. Hermione could see the truth in Ron's words and quickly thought up a reply.

"So you're going to descend to his level?" Saying that hurt Hermione more than anything. They'd been on the same level, briefly. She guessed not any more, then.

Meanwhile Ron was talking again. "No, I'm just going to make sure I get his mates before he gets mine."

"For heaven's sake, Ron_" She sighed, exasperated.

It wasn't a long time later that Malfoy himself entered the compartment, as usual with his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"What?" Harry asked aggressively.

"Manners, Potter, otherwise I'll have to give you a detention," Malfoy drawled, his eyes flickering round at them all, but seemingly missing hers. "You see, I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

"Yeah," Harry replied, "but you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."

Last year she wouldn't have laughed at that, but because Malfoy had been avoiding her, she snickered along with Ron, Ginny and Neville. Malfoy's lip curled and she was sure he'd noticed.

"Tell me, how does it feel being second-best to Weasley, Potter?" He asked.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione said sharply, and for a second those alluring grey-blue eyes landed on hers. She never would have said that if he hadn't ignored her.

"I seem to have touched a nerve," Malfoy smirked, but his heart wasn't in it. He looked away from Hermione's piercing glare. "Well, just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line." His smirk became more pronounced. Hermione stood up.

"Get out!" And Malfoy left at last, sniggering.

Hermione slammed the door shut and looking at Harry, knew he too had noticed the odd adjective: dogging, and was relating it to Sirius.