A/N: This is my first ever fanfic, yeeee. It takes place somewhere during HBP, so you should probably have read that and Deathly Hallows, too, before reading this. I don't want to be a life ruiner. Rated T for now but that will possibly change.
"But… you hate me. You've always hated me," Hermione said, her voice faltering with uncertainty. Images filtered through her mind as she replayed their interactions over and over, reliving harsh words, and the feel of her fist barreling into his face.
He said nothing for a long moment, and that silence was everything. She just stared at him, scanning his face, trying to read something in his carefully blank expression. Neither of them moved or made a sound.
"You'd think so," he drawled, breaking their eye contact.
"I… I'd think so?" she burst out. "You've, you've insulted me a thousand times. You called me Mudblood!" she spat out the word. And widened her eyes when he actually flinched away. As if he was ashamed.
"I was a child, Granger," he said softly.
"As if that excus-"
"I'm sorry."
The words hung heavy in the air between them. She blinked and stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted wings.
"But… I-"
Malfoy rolled his eyes at her and asked, "Didn't your stupid Muggle parents teach you anything?" She bristled at his words, but he continued on. "Sometimes… sometimes boys are mean to girls they like." There was a faint touch of red to his pale cheeks. She couldn't believe he was saying this. She imagined he couldn't believe he was saying this, either. She had no idea how they had happened into this conversation, or how they were alone in a room without hexing each other or flinging insults back and forth.
Maybe they had grown up.
Dark shadows haunted his pale grey eyes. He was somber and tense now, avoiding her gaze. She wondered how much it had taken him to tell her this. He already seemed so tired all the time.
"Why are you telling me this now?" she asked him. "Do… do you still like me?"
He scowled at her. "Don't flatter yourself," he snarled, some of his old venom spilling into his words. She realized he was lying – it was written all over his face. "Just forget it." He made to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm before he could go. They were both startled at the contact. She had only touched him in anger before.
His jaw clenched, he turned to face her. He was close, closer than he had ever been to her. She felt unsettled down to her bones. "What," he growled, "do you want from me?"
"The truth."
She locked eyes with him. She could have sworn the world slowed to a stop, and she lived the moment each second at a time. He closed the gap between them and bent his head to kiss her. The contact was brief, electric. His lips were so soft.
He pulled away and left her there. She stood there alone for a long time, running a finger along her bottom lip. It was…nothing. It had barely been a kiss.
No, no, she decided later when she was finally back in her dorm. She lied awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. No. It had taken him everything to kiss her. It was something.