Houses Competition Year 4. Ravenclaw, HoH, drabble, prompt: [Song Prompt] I can't help falling in love with you by Elvis, WC: 473

AU in which Draco literally is a fallen angel and Hermione really just can't stay away

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He was not good, she knew that much.

Not only for her, but he was not good in general. She couldn't quite admit to him being bad as such. The problem was that she couldn't quite explain what she felt for Draco Malfoy. He was a fallen angel, cast out from Heaven, living on Earth as penance for some age-old defiance. He was a trickster, too powerful for Earth, and had just enough of a glimmer of divinity to fool passersby.

He'd hurt people. Hermione knew that. She had seen his bruised knuckles, the blood, and occasionally the fear in the eyes of those who surrounded him.

And, yet, there she was, sitting on his doorstep in the rain, waiting for him to come home. She wanted to see him, to let him know that she understood his anger. Not that she had been hurt by her own parents, but more so that she was sympathetic to his situation of emotional abandonment.

His car pulled up, the rain bouncing off the glistening metal structure. He was confused, she could tell. Perhaps by her presence - it was unusual for her to turn up unannounced.

"Hermione," he said, closing the car door behind him. There was blood on his shirt and his lips were cracked. Rain poured down his face and splashed onto the ground. She stood up, wanting to go to him. "What are you doing here?"

She paused. "I don't know. I wanted to see you."

"You shouldn't want that," he replied, smiling that painfully sad smile that so rarely graced his features. Usually it was an expression that was filled with hollow mirth, or conjured in response to a sarcastic comment or thought. "You know what I am; you know what I'm like."

Hermione took another step towards him. He didn't step back, but he flinched as her hand reached up to touch his cheek.

"What was it this time?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Draco said, grimacing. "Please leave."

"Would it really be a sin for me to stay?" Hermione asked as he brushed past her.

"You don't know what you're saying."

The thing was, he had paused in walking away from her. Though the rain was rushing down on them and people hurried past in their haste, he had halted, waiting for her. This was a moment on the precipice; it was the space between what was and what could be. And he was waiting for her. Surely, there was some significance in this?

She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Draco, I do. Really." She wanted to say more. I love you. I can't help falling in love with you. He seemed to sense this.

"You always did love broken things," he said.

For one fleeting moment, he held her hand. Then, with the breeze, he was gone.

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Thanks for reading!