title: A Decision Made

author: the lovely delirium

ship: hermione + draco + pansy

summary: The thought of us together was absurd, and the means even more preposterous, but it had still been the best thing to ever to happen to me. And I let it go – let her go. I could feel Hermione's beautiful eyes penetrating me, begging me to say something, to retaliate in her defense. I didn't speak. I'd made my decision.

disclaimer: i do not own any of the characters or places mentioned in this story, only the plot line, and loosely that.

author's note: i have never written anything draco + hermione, nor have i ever shipped it at all until i was given it as a challenge on another site, so this may be a bit oc. let me know, those of you who are faithful draco + hermione. i tried to make it as realistic as possible. feed back is always appreciated.

"Draco…" The shrill whine that was her voice tore me viciously from my pleasant memories, a searing migraine replacing my vivid daydream. Her voice alone was enough to make me want to murder a puppy, yet I kept her around for reasons that seemed so futile now. I'd made the worst decision yet in my short life and here she was a constant reminder of what an illogical, self-serving, egotistical jerk I truly am. Thank you very much.

I grumbled with the annoyance she never failed to instigate in me, and turned to face the faux brunette. "What do you want, Pansy?"

I managed to load those few words with as much spite, irritation, and loathing as feasibly possible, but as always Pansy didn't receive the unambiguous message and fluttered her clumped eyelashes in a poor attempt at appealing in my direction. "You weren't paying attention to me! Don't you want to sneak up to your dorm again so we can—"

She laced one of her atrociously long nailed fingers inside my collar as an apparent move of reeling me in, but on instinct I shot away from her and stood up from the black leather couch of the Slytherin common room, my parchment and quill tumbling to the stone floor. It really was amazing how what used to enflame my teenage hormones suddenly repulsed me to the point of nausea. Compared to her, Pansy was as attractive as a cockroach, and yet the beauty was nowhere in sight and the beast was before me purring. How did I screw this so effectively?

I made up some half-baked excuse to Pansy and fled from the dungeons so I could breathe air that she hadn't infected with her ghastly polluting perfume. I couldn't believe what a mindless idiot I was. How could I have chosen vomit-inducing Pansy over her? But even as I thought on that sore topic, I knew my ridiculous logic. I couldn't sacrifice my reputation as the Draco Malfoy to be with her. That's exactly how self-centered I am. Merlin, even I hate me. And now I can never go back. I made the wrong decision and am forced to live with it every day in the hideous form of Pansy Parkinson.

Without much thought focused on my feet I knew where they were taking me, regardless of the pain I might endure by making an appearance. The library I had associated throughout my youth with boring schoolwork and dusty books now fueled me with anticipation and longing. I knew she would be there. Like day turns to night, she would escape to her sanctum. She treasured her routine and I learned to adore the time I knew I would see her.

Tentatively I peeked around every bookshelf, wary of Madam Pince and her vulture distinctiveness but also any of my fellow Slytherins who were too old for me to intimidate into silence about my presence in somewhere as pathetic as the library. Thankfully, none were to be found and my gut clenched with relief, which was soon trumped by thrilling excitement. I really shouldn't be feeling this way, logically, but logic had flown the coop long ago, along with any of my former assumptions of her.

One last bookshelf, only one until I would find her there in the same place she would always inhabit, though I had since left her. My breath hitched in the way I had never learned to expect, and then there she was, in all her Gryffindor glory.

Hermione Granger.

The thought of us together was absurd, and the means even more preposterous, but it had still been the best thing to ever to happen to me. And I let it go – let her go.

I hid stealthily behind that last bookshelf and just watched her. I knew I could never approach her again, but if I lost myself in her beauty I found it almost curbed the pain in a twisted way. My eyes traveled over her slender frame, hunched over another archaic piece of wizard literature, her nose nearly pressed to the page in her devotion. I bit back a chuckle as I watched her crinkle that adorable nose; a reaction I knew meant she had breathed in the coating of dust again. She shifted her weight to rest on her elbow, the back of her head now turned in my direction, her face hidden from view. Her caramel colored hair was weaved back into a French braid, the complex concept of which she had tried to explain to me once as I had easily pulled my fingers through it during one of our more heated moments.

That thought only drove me down another dead end road. Suddenly my thoughts were flickering through our time together in an uncontrollable onslaught.

I remembered the undeniably cute way she would talk as I began to kiss her neck, her lectures on elfish rights becoming fumbled and stuttered until I took mercy on her mouth. My senses now enflamed, I recalled the taste of her kisses on my mouth, like a lovely cinnamon flame, her floral aroma forever enticing me to come closer, breathe her in. I relived the moments when she retaliated, her soft, trembling hands shyly unbuttoning my shirt for the first time, the feeling of her hands scorching paths along my skin with her every delightful touch, haunting me. Then the devilish gleam in her eye the time she took control and straddled my lap in the very same chair she sat in, the vision of her lips swollen and red in their clever smirk when she finally realized she had me at her every whim.

Every single moment of heaven now burned me like hell.

And as if the mockingly gorgeous beauty before me was not torture enough to endure, the nauseating voice extracted me from memory to punish me further. "Draco! There you are! What are you doing here? It's so disgusting and boring!"

I opened my mouth instinctively to snarl back some irritated retort, until I realized just what Pansy's abhorrent complaining had disclosed. I held my breath unintentionally, awaiting the assault of damage at the sound of her lovely voice pronouncing my name once more.

"Draco?" It amazed me how something so angelic could deliver so much pain and agony with only two syllables, but it was ineffably possible. I heard irrefutably the betrayal in the one word, the hurt and the anger I knew she could achieve. I didn't turn to meet her gaze, boring through me, for I knew that I couldn't take much more than her voice at the moment.

However, with Pansy in the midst silence did not exist and I did not have to compensate for my lack of words. In her best imitation of an affronted Hippogriff, Pansy popped her hip and stepped menacingly toward Hermione who had apparently stood and approached us while I had been avoiding her eyes. With her curled lip and demeaning stare, Pansy spat out her frequently rehearsed line: "What do you want, you filthy little Mudblood?"

Hermione took an involuntary step back at the vicious name and my anger flared at Pansy catastrophically, though my diligently constructed visage never faltered with the emotion. Somehow the insult that had rolled of my tongue so causally in the past seemed like a forbidden tactic against Hermione. Since she came into my life the word had a whole new meaning than something to gain superiority and I hadn't used the slander. But all that was unimportant now, because it would never make any difference.

I could feel Hermione's beautiful eyes penetrating me, begging me to say something, to retaliate in her defense. I didn't speak.

"Draco," Pansy whined, having resigned Hermione's presence in the conversation with ignorance. "We should go up to the dorms! I promise we'll have much more fun…"

I demanded my eyes to follow Pansy as she wound her arms awkwardly around my neck, rather than to obey my wishes and gaze at Hermione. I knew that if I looked upon her for too long I would crumble and grovel for forgiveness at her feet. But in my heart I knew that if I tried to apologize now I would only severely hurt the both of us. Hermione deserved someone who would cherish her; someone who would love her unconditionally, someone who would was never selfish or concerned with blood or titles, someone who wasn't me. I would only ruin what a wonderful person she was and I wouldn't let myself do that to her.

So for that sole reason I didn't pull away from Pansy as she scooted closer to me. I gulped back the bile rising in my throat as she leaned closer, her 'flirty' face in full force. With one last perfume infested breath I pursed my lips and stood my ground. Pansy did her worst and smothered her mouth over mine in the most revolting of ways. All I could think of as Pansy conducted her one-sided kiss was the pitiable lovely girl standing not ten feet from me and how I had blown everything my life could be worth with just one decision.

Pansy released me from her clutches after what felt like a million years and giggled sickeningly. Her spindly fingers coiled themselves around my bicep tightly and she looked completely satisfied with herself. But I didn't care about her at all.

I finally met Hermione's eyes, becoming lost in the maze of her mind. I saw her pain, just as intense as my own, even worse in ways. Her anger was only edging its way into her mind, but the confusion was evident in tenfold. She didn't understand in her innocence, and I prayed she never would. She could get past a break up, she might even be able to forgive me after years, but if she were to know my real wretched motives behind leaving her she might never recover. I felt guilt beyond measure from her eyes and for once I felt nauseous under my own accord. The feelings only magnified in a tumult of chaos as the tears brimming in her eyes finally spilled over her glassy brown orbs and onto her ivory cheeks. That image would forever stain my mind and with it the hell I would endure in association. The pain was enough to seek death with just one look into those perfect eyes.

She broke the contact, raising a hand to her mouth to stifle the sob emitted. In many hazardous swift actions she had piled her things into her bag and flung it across her shoulder. She met my stare one final time and then stumbled out of the library, her awful weeping echoing in my head. Pansy made a ruthless comment to her back; I watched her every faltered step. She didn't look back as her caramel braid flipped around the final corner. I'd made my decision.

Fin.