He had learned that he respected her and loved her on the same day. The day, in third year, when Hermione Granger slapped him. She was angry about that oaf of a teacher and the stupid animal, well if you could even call that thing an animal, that had bit him. The slap had made him speechless with shock. Nobody had ever had the nerve to hit him before.
Then, late that night, Draco Malfoy was sauntering through the hallway, looking for Crabbe and Goyle, who had gone to the kitchens to get more food from those idiotic house elves.
Suddenly, he heard a crash. It sounded distinctly like books falling.
"What did you do that for?" A girl's voice rang out.
Guffawing followed. Draco knew it well; it belonged to Crabbe and Goyle.
"We'll do more than that," Goyle muttered.
Draco turned the corner and saw that Hermione Granger was cornered by the two massive boys. She was surrounded by her thick books, obviously returning to her common room from the library.
Goyle had his fist raised.
Just as it was about to make contact with her face, Draco shouted, "Goyle! Stop!
Goyle froze in mid-punch and turned a bemused head slowly towards Draco. "What?"
"Bloody hell! Goyle, put the fist down and get away from Granger."
Goyle and Crabbe obeyed immediately, both looking completely confounded.
"You can't just go around hitting Granger. She's a girl!"
Goyle grunted in reply, his tone defensive, "She hit you."
"She slapped me. She's a girl. Are you mad?"
Granger seemed to let out her held breath. She looked beyond relieved.
"Thanks," she said, catching his eye and flashing him a smile. He felt a strange tingly feeling in his stomach. He found himself returning the smile.
Suddenly he remembered who he was and dropped the smile. "You won't tell anyone about this. You won't report it or run off to your little friends," he ordered in a mono-tone.
"Why would I? Nothing happened." Draco heard the unsaid but obviously implied, 'Thanks to you." He had to fight not to smile again.
"Listen," he said desperately, trying to regain control of the situation and of himself, "This doesn't change anything. I still hate you. It was only because you were a girl. We are still enemies."
"Of course." She didn't seem put off at all. In fact, she flashed him another smile and walked off with Draco looking after her.
Goyle wrote to his parents and told them Draco stopped him hitting a Mudblood (he left out the girl bit). Draco hadn't received any presents for his birthday a couple of days later.
Oddly enough though, Draco felt strangely satisfied with himself and didn't give damn about his father or any unthoughtful expensive presents he might have received. In fact, Draco had quite a good birthday that year and couldn't stop smiling to himself.
Draco couldn't really believe he was here. It seemed insane but he didn't care.
He just needed somebody who cared.
He didn't really know why he thought she would care. They had remained enemies, never muttering a nice word to each other in the six years. Yes, he never mentioned the slap again and yes, he warned her when the Death Eaters were after Mudbloods at the Quidditch World Cup (In a very coded and nasty way, of course. He was still Draco Malfoy, after all). Yes, he had briefly mentioned the word "Mudblood" in her direction but mostly he focused on Weasley and Potter, and tried to ignore her presence.
The only time he ever paid her attention was when he watched her in class. He liked watching her nibbling on her quill or scribbling down her notes eagerly. He loved the way her great, brown eyes widened in wonder, her nose wrinkled in concentration, and her face lit up when she was learning. She honestly seemed to enjoy her lessons.
Hermione Granger was one of a kind.
So, maybe that was why he was outside the library, waiting for her to come out. He didn't like waiting but he was safer here in the shadows. He didn't want anybody to see him.
Eventually, she strolled out, her bag draped around her shoulder casually. He took in the sight of her, smelling her comforting smell and felt himself relax at last.
He stepped out of the darkness and watched her exclaim loudly, "Malfoy!"
He didn't reply. Merlin, he didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. He shouldn't even be there. He didn't have any right dragging her into his mess. Draco admitted he was selfish. He didn't want to deal with this on his own. He needed comfort. He needed her to tell him it would be okay. She was the only person who could do this for him. He had nobody else.
"Malfoy, are you okay?"
"Draco. Call me Draco. Granger, can we, er, go into that classroom?"
She looked a bit suspicious but followed him inside the classroom. She sank down into a chair and looked at him expectantly.
"Hermione," he said her name softly, "I'm in trouble. Deep trouble."
If she was shocked he was coming to her, she didn't show it. Instead, she said, "Tell me."
He decided to show her instead. He showed her his hands, which were drenched in drying blood. She now looked shocked, her mouth hanging open slightly. She titled back away from him slightly, her eyes still trained on the blood.
"He was a seventh year. Mathew Baddock. Malcom's older brother. He doesn't like me, and was getting at me and I just couldn't deal with it."
Her eyes left his hands to meet his eyes, staring yet she seemed to shocked to actually speak. This suited Draco perfectly because he was talking so fast and he just wanted to get it all out. "I had a knife with me. Father got it for me. It's beautifully decorated and is magically protected. And its sharp," He looked up at her pleadingly. "Oh, Granger, it's sharp." Tears were in his eyes now. He wiped them away angrily, his pride raw.
"It's okay," she said gingerly. She caught hold of his hand and captured it in his own. It sent a warm sensation through Draco.
"Don't," he said, "there's blood on my hand."
"I don't mind," she whispered. She caught hold of his other hand with her spare one.
The feeling that spread from her hands, the warmth, the care made him feel like he was a young child discovering magic again.
This time when a tear dropped down his cheek, he didn't brush it away. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt him. I just… I don't know. I got so angry. I felt like he was my father. I felt like I was my father." He looked at her, begging her to understand, "I never want to feel like my father again."
She was extremely pale. He hoped she wasn't about to faint.
"Hermione," he said urgently. "What am I going to do?"
"You need to go to Dumbledore. Hand yourself in. He'll take care of you. You'll be okay."
She was putting things into perspective. The caring soft tone in her voice. The warmth radiating from her. The tears in her sparkling brown eyes.
If his mother and his father had been like this, would he have turned out the way? Would he still be a murderer? He stood up, but couldn't quite fight the trembles enveloping him.
"Are you going to Dumbledore's?"
He nodded, knowing full well what he had to do.
"Shall I come?" she asked, her voice still quite vague.
How Draco wanted to nod but he knew it couldn't be so. He had to do this on his own. He walked out of the classroom, leaving her behind. He briefly hesitated in the dark hallway, looking out at the dark sky and the stars. How he wanted to go back into that classroom and hold her warm form in his arms, maybe even kiss her. Part of him even wanted to go to Dumbledore.
But, nodding his head firmly to himself, he looked back at the classroom door, where she still sat, then closed his eyes, took a deep breath, said a silent goodbye and jumped down into the night.
"Miss Granger, you were the last person to talk to Mr. Malfoy?"
She nodded, tears still streaming down her face.
"Now, Listen carefully, Hermione. Did he mention anything about Matthew Baddock?"
She hesitated, then answered quietly, "No, sir."
"He didn't mention anything about a murder?" Dumbledore gently prompted, his eyes twinkling.
"No, sir."
The funeral was a sad event. Harry and Ron didn't utter a word and she cried. How could Draco have done that? Talk to her then committed suicide? Why did she care so much?
Why did she feel like she loved him when it couldn't be humanly possible?
Why did he have to kill Mathew?
Why did he die?
She saw people give her furtive glances. She knew they wanted to ask her what Draco had said before committing suicide.
She would never tell them.
The strangest moment of the funeral was when Lucius Malfoy approached her.
"You, Miss Granger, were the last one to talk to Draco?"
"Yes sir."
"Did he," Mr. Malfoy coughed uncomfortably, "Did he mention me?"
Hermione wasn't going to tell him what Draco said to her in confidence and slowly shook her head.
"I did love him. I hope he knew that," Lucius said in a soft voice.
Hermione said nothing. She had nothing to say.
"Miss Granger, please tell me, did Draco kill Mathew?"
She nodded dumbly, feeling he, as Draco's father, had a right.
He smiled proudly. "That's my boy," he said and walked away to meet his wife, who was staring at the ground her son was to be buried in.
"How could he do this to me, Lucius? No mother should ever have to bury her son. He knows that."
Hermione looked away, her eyes watering again. Crabbe and Goyle were looking lost. Pansy was crying openly, the first bit of emotion Hermione had ever seen from her. Many of the Slytherins had tears in their eyes. None of them muttered one word through the service. The other houses stood a little apart, many of them crying also.
Dumbledore stood up. He cleared his throat, looked out at the sad downcast faces and said, "Draco Malfoy was a young man of outstanding intelligence. He earned his house many points and he took part in many activities. He was a brilliant Quidditch player and was very determined to do well.
"Many people didn't know Draco. He was a Slytherin in all aspects and many houses did not understand this, but I know everybody, no matter from what house they belong in, agrees with me when I say Hogwarts will never be the same without Draco Malfoy."
There was a solemn silence while Dumbledore stepped down. Then Professor Snape began to clap. Slowly, the applause grew louder and louder. Harry and Ron clapped along with everybody else.
All school grudges were thrown aside.
She knew that Draco's death would change things. Houses would mingle more and perhaps one day, the houses would live in harmony.
Perhaps something good would grow out of something so bad. And that was when Hermione felt herself smile through her tears.
Gryffindor and Slytherin may learn to understand, perhaps even love each other, like Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.
Just revised today! Thanks for all the reviews I received on this one. There actually wasn't that many mistakes in this one.
Thanks to: Dynobunny, lil evilness, dragonsmartypants, Professional Toilet Flusher, Little Black Angel, Johnnys-my-Hottie, Angel, Granger-gurl-rox, Sofa-Girl, Syaoronsangel, Meena2. Happigolucki616, Miss Boreanaz88, rebecca89, Ezmerlada, Stephaine, Crazy-White-Rabbit, Draco-Malfoy-Severus-Luva, Young Hitomi, Sila-Chan, WildPunk, Dazed Panda, jules, Telle, Bloody-Love, Eillie, Ketamine, Meena2.
I know these people reviewed ages ago, but it's still good manners to say thank you. So Thanks!
This was the first one-shot I ever wrote. Isn't it pretty? Nothing much changed except the couple of typos and a little bit added in about Draco's mother.