A/N: Hello there! I'm not a native English speaker and this is the first time I'm writing a story in another language. All feedback are welcome, even if it is just to point out a typo or a mistake. Also, characters may be (or not) a bit OCC and the story is situated in the 6th year (y'all just have to pretend that Draco isn't marked and doesn't have a mission).

Hope you can enjoy my short story! (:

Disclaimer: JK owns everything. You know the deal.

BLACK GLASSES

Maybe I'm a man and maybe I'm a lonely man

Who's in the middle of something

That he doesn't really understand

Maybe I'm a man and maybe you're the only woman

Who could ever help me

Baby, won't you help me to understand?

(Maybe I'm Amazed - Paul McCartney)

Draco couldn't believe his eyes. Of all people, she was wearing glasses. They were black, big and square framed and they matched her strong facade perfectly. They were made to frame that face of hers. Nevertheless, he couldn't quite accept that. It was hard enough for him to pretend he hated her but now, it seemed nearly impossible.

As usual, she sat next to Potty and Weasel was with his clingy loud girlfriend. He couldn't stop noticing how angry Granger seemed everytime the Brown girl squealed "Uon Uon" and hugged his freckled neck. She kept pushing the glasses over the bridge of her nose and tucking her hair behind her ear trying hard to focus on the parchment in front of her.

She looked perfect.

He wanted to say something mean, hell, anything. But he wasn't trusting his tongue anymore. If he were to open his mouth, he would only do it to lace his with hers. But he had to say something! How could he maintain his Malfoy posh posture if he just let her walk freely with her stupid glasses and her stupid beautiful face without saying a word?

He took a deep unobstrusive breath and shouted:

– Oi, Granger, what the hell happened to your face? Why do you look like Potty?

He could see, even from a distant, her shoulders tensing up. She turned her face to stare at him.

– Shut it, Malfoy.

God, she is so pretty, he thought. And she always made him so anxious he had to hold back na intrusive hiccup before answering back.

– You shut it, Mudblood.

The instant the M word left his mouth, he regretted it. How come he was so dumb? He just wanted her to feel something for him, even if it were only pure rage. He knew he wasn't better than her and he didn't believe that crap about blood purity anymore. He never truly did. But he knew he would never have her, he didn't deserve her at all. He just wanted to be acknowledged by her.

The blond saw when Potter held her hand trying to calm her down. They exchanged such a deep look that it pained him to his core. He murmured something in her ear and she let out a big sigh and just resumed scribbling on her parchment.

She had just ignored him! This was unacceptable. He would have said something else, but McGonagall had already arrived and the class had already started.

Hermione was hurt. He knew that just by the look of distress that crept through her hazel eyes. She probably was already sad because of the red imbecile and he made it worse. Instead of being his usual arse self, he decided to keep watching her. During Potions and Herbology, during lunch, at her usual desk in the library. He kept turning guilty glances at her the whole day. She looked devastated and the glasses were still there. At dinnertime, he couldn't handle that anymore. He had to do something.

For years, he barked horrible things at her, but at the same time, he monitored her every step. He knew that she cried reading muggle novels. Or that she liked to walk near the lake at least once a week. He knew she liked peppermint chocolate sticks. He didn't know about the glasses, though.

So, when she excused herself way too early and left the dinner table, he knew exactly where she was headed to. He didn't follow her, but he found a way of arriving at the Astronomy Tower before she did.

She arrived at the room and there he was, gazing at the sky. She tried going away without being seen, but he was faster than her.

– Granger, – he whispered softly – why don't you come closer?