.:xX Memories. Xx:.
"Draco, you know I can't. It's just not right for me to. And Ron…and Harry…I'm sorry, Draco." Draco felt his heart sink slowly, and he gritted his teeth.
"Hermione, we shouldn't care what they think. It's not they're choice, anyway!" he exclaimed. He knew that Potter and Weasley would do their best to kill him if he got with Hermione, but he didn't care.
"They're my best friends, Draco. I'm sorry." her voice had a firm tone to it. She turned to walk towards the great hall's doors, and her 'friends'. He watched her bushy brown hair bounce as she walked, and his heart ached Ron glared over at him. He watched, feeling his eyelids sting.
"Don't worry 'bout 'er, Malfoy. She's a mud blood. What's it matter?" the voice of Goyle sounded in his ears, and he gave a snarl, turning to bring his hand across the other's face. But he stopped dead in his tracks.
In the doorway, Ron had Hermione pressed up against the doorframe, his lips pressed tight to hers. Draco felt his heart sink, and the tears stinging at his eyelids. The sound of splintering wood broke the dreadful silence as he crushed the small hand-carved ornament he'd planned on giving Hermione for Christmas.
He felt cold. Very, very cold. And it had nothing to do with the snow falling from the Great Hall's enchanted ceilings…
"Malfoy…?" Goyle's voice was worried. "Malfoy…..Malfoy!…."
"MALFOY!" Draco blinked and looked up at the older (and far more intelligent) version of Gregory Goyle. "I'm sorry, Goyle, what was that?"
"It's almost Christmas day. Why don't you head home? I'm sure your going to need to go visit your father soon."
"…" Draco was silent. In the doorway of the large room, stood Hermione Granger, Twenty-seven years old, and still as beautiful as he remembered. He gripped a small wooden ornament in his hand, and once more, felt it begin to splinter…