DISCLAIMER! I do not own anything; it all belongs to J.K. Rowling.
A/N: Uh, yeah, just something I came up with and I hope you like it. Rated T because, well you'll see. There was something else I was going to tell you, but I forgot, so with not much to say, enjoy.
She looked out of her hiding spot to the dimly lit hallway. She made sure there was nobody around before she went on her way again. She walked, all the while casting wary looks until she saw someone tall and lean and pacing. He ran a hand through his hair – a sign of frustration. She couldn't help but smile, it didn't matter how she felt about him, annoying him was still a diversion. She had noticed, over the course of the year, that though he still looked handsome, he seemed ill. Pushing that aside, she finally took a deep breath and stepped into view. He stopped pacing and dropped his hand when he saw her.
"Where were you?" he asked frustrated, with a slight note of relief in his voice.
"I'm sorry I took so long, but I almost got caught," she explained. He gave a curt nod before walking up and down part of the hallway three times. A door revealed itself on the wall and he opened it. He motioned for her to get in and after she had complied he followed suit. It was a room, neither his or hers, just a room where they could be away from prying eyes, where nobody would judge them, where they could be alone.
"How long were you there?" the girl asks.
"About five minutes," he replied. Five minutes, so little time, and yet, within that time he could have been caught. "We need to talk," he stated rather abruptly after a pause.
"I know. We can't do this anymore, can we?" she asked, her tone not revealing what she felt, desolation and pain.
"No, we can't," he responded.
"I knew this would happen eventually, and I am glad I was prepared for this. It is dangerous and inappropriate. I'm Muggle-born and you're not. We belong to different sides, different beliefs, different Houses, different worlds, and different lies. We are opposites, we always have been, and I do not understand why I fell for you. Whatever reason it was, I do not regret it," she said firmly, in a matter-of-fact tone. Tears threatened to come but she managed to stop them a little longer.
"I agree, and I understand more than you might think, and I don't have any regrets when it comes to us," he said, his tone the same as hers. Then he added, "There is something else I have to tell you though." At this, the girl turned around to face him, but as he spoke he did not look at her and he spoke in an almost bitter tone, "I was assigned a great task, one that I do not want to do, but rather one I have to do. It involves murder, but you have to understand that I'm doing this to save my parents and I, but neither you nor your… fellow students will be harmed, unless you get in the way." He had always been quite blunt.
"I will not ask because I would rather not know, and as you know, I will not tell. I do have to warn you that when it comes down to it, I will fight if I have to, and if we have to duel with each other, then we will duel as expected, with hatred, without mercy or remorse. Do you understand what I am telling you?" she asked in a toneless manner. She was surprised however at what he had been put to do. It was no wonder he looked so ill.
"I know and I understand," he replied, looking at her in the eye. A silence stretched between them, neither really knowing what to say.
"I have to go," she finally said, heading toward the door. As she walked passed him, he too her wrist. Surprised, she looked at him.
"No. Stay… please," he said, the slightest bit of pleading in his voice. His tone, his willingness to plead for her to stay broke her. She did not cry, but she conceded. He led her to a cushioned seat, where he sat and pulled her to sit on his lap. They didn't speak, they simply stared at each other, wanting the other to understand how much they meant to each other, to know they didn't want to say goodbye.
Nobody knew about their relationship, but if they did, not only would they be surprised about the two people involved in it, but also how chaste their relationship really was. They had never kissed, never touched each other inappropriately, they had simply spent countless hours here sitting together, holding hands or him holding her. Many would have mistaken it for friendship, but they were wrong. What they felt for each other was something else, something more. Friendship did not feel like this. After all, she did not feel like this toward Harry – her best friend.
She was taken out of her thoughts rather abruptly, but she was more than pleasantly surprised at what happened next. He leaned in and kissed her. Their lips did not part, simply moved together. His arms around her waist tightened and her hands tangled in his soft, platinum blond hair. When they parted they both looked equally shocked.
Embarrassed, he looked away, his hands loosening around her waist. She was just as embarrassed and she looked down, her hands limp in her lap. It was quiet, and in that quiet stillness she realized something and she gave a quiet, sad, and shaky laugh.
"Hermione?" he asked sounding confused and wary.
"Sorry, I tend to find irony at times when I shouldn't," she replied looking at him sheepishly. He simply raised an eyebrow in question. "I think it's ironic how our relationship just took a step up when it's about to end," she explained looking away before he could register anything about her expression.
He looked at her, looked at this magnificent witch before him and he wished he could tell her that their relationship didn't have to end, that they would be together for as long as they lived, that things didn't have to be this way, that when the war ended they would be free to be together, but he couldn't tell her that because they were lies neither of them could afford to believe. One of the things he could tell her was that he belonged to her, but he would refuse to say it like that.
"I love you Hermione Granger," he opted to say, the only truth he could bring himself to say. She looked at him then and he thought her chocolate brown eyes looked unusually bright. She stood up and motioned for him to do the same. He did so feeling confused. She looked at him directly in the eye before she spoke.
"I love you too, Draco Malfoy," she said her voice thick. Then, she began crying. Crystal-like tears simply began to fall continuously, and he felt a lump in his own throat.
He put his arms around her and she buried her face in his chest while he pressed his face against her unruly hair. He promised to himself that he would never forget her scent, while secretly, she thought the same of him. Neither knew how long they were like that when she finally stopped crying. She pulled away and gave him a watery smile. He returned it with a gentle smile of his own. She leaned in and brushed her lips softly against his, both of their eyes half-closed. He did not give her so much time to pull away before he kissed her again. For the first time he allowed his tongue to feel her lower lip, and for the first time she allowed her lips to part for him.
Their kiss was blissful, but at the same time it held deep sadness because this would be the last time they would be here. She sighed softly and he smiled against her lips because he was the one that could make her feel like this. Soon, their robes came off, revealing their uniform, marking them as rivals because she was a Gryffindor and he a Slytherin. Her hands hesitantly ran up his back and he shuddered at the wonderful feeling. They simultaneously began walking toward the bed, and he seemed unsure as his hands began moving lower, slowly. When the back of her knees touched the bed she let herself fall on it, him landing on top of her painlessly. They continued kissing and his hand began trailing lightly up her skirt.
"Draco," she gasped encouragingly. Yet, when she said his name it was as if he were snapping out a trance.
"I can't do this to you, Hermione," he said and stood, taking a couple of steps back. She, too, seemed to be taken out of a reverie as she stood and straightened her uniform. She understood what his words meant and they touched her more than almost anything. They knew they could never be together and he did not wish to hurt her knowing she could never belong to him. I already belong to him, she thought to herself.
"Thank you for saving us," she said quietly, smiling faintly. A ghost of a smile crossed his features and he nodded.
"Stay here with me tonight," he said just as quietly. She conceded because she knew he meant no harm by his statement.
Fortunately, this room was equipped with everything – even clothes. They changed and lay down under the sheets together. He pulled her close and she snuggled against him. This is what it felt like, to be sleeping chastely on a bed together after a long day. It was something they would never feel again because they would never marry.
"I love you," she said her face pressed against his chest, breathing in his scent.
"I love you too," he said into her hair for the second time that night. Neither thought they would be able to sleep, and yet they managed to, in each others arms.
With the next morning came reality. They had woken up and changed in silence. They had kissed gently and held hands to their way to the door. Once out there, they had gone their separate ways to their respective common rooms. As she showered, because she smelled of him, and as she got dressed and brushed her hair among other things, she cried. She cried because she had finally lost him and part of her heart; she had lost her own battle. She didn't know he was thinking the same thing as he got ready. She straightened her shoulders, took several deep breaths and wiped her tears away. Ron and Harry wouldn't notice her slightly puffy eyes, they weren't observant enough. If they did happen to notice, she could simply tell them she was tired, which was true in a sense. Trying to appear normal, she walked downstairs.
As they walked to the Great Hall someone bumped into her. "Watch it, Mudblood," she heard a voice she recognized too well say. She turned and was greeted by a pair of cold, gray eyes, and a sneer.
"Why don't you watch it, Malfoy," she replied, her face hard and her eyes cold, like his.
"How dare you?" he asked angrily.
"Leave her alone," Ron said threateningly.
"Why should I listen to you, Weasel?" he queried mockingly.
"It's better if you do," Harry warned.
"What are you going to do about it, Potty?" Malfoy sneered haughtily.
"He would make you shut up, but we can't waste our time with you because we have better things to do, ferret," she replied and turned angrily on her heel, storming toward the Great Hall, followed by her companions, who were laughing.
That's how it always was in public, and they were both very good at putting up a charade. Nothing ever gave their relationship away. Not their words, their tones, their expressions, their stances or their eyes. They treated each other as was expected of them to do so, with hate, without niceties. Each played their part extremely well, wishing it didn't have to be this way. As Malfoy made his way to the Great Hall he thought this was unfair and wondered what he had done to deserve this
The next night, as Malfoy had stated, things went from bad to worse. Dumbledore was dead and Death Eaters had been able to get into Hogwarts. As Malfoy, Snape, and other Death Eaters escaped, Malfoy caught a glimpse of Hermione. She had stunned a Death Eater and was now dueling another, her face beautiful and set. She wasn't skilled for nothing and Draco knew and admired that. As he ran he thought she had looked more beautiful and fierce than he had ever seen her. He swallowed hard and wondered if he would see her again, and if he did he hoped it wasn't under the worst circumstances.
A/NI really hoped you like it, and I would really appreciate it if you reviewed, thank you. Oh, and I still can't remember what I was going to type.