Hi guys! This is my first Dramione fanfic, so... yeah. I apologize if it's bad! Also, reviews would be appreciated! Thanks c:
"What's wrong, Granger?"
Hermione heard the words from behind her and turned quickly, wiping her red-rimmed, teary eyes.
"Oh, it's you, Malfoy," she muttered, turning back around and sniffing. "Nothing."
Draco snorted. Despite all of the teasing and name-calling he'd done through the years, Draco hated to see the bushy-haired know-it-all upset. He didn't know why - and he certainly didn't know why it was only her, but it was and he couldn't change it.
"Despite what you think, I'm not stupid, Granger." Draco said, his voice surprisingly soft. He went and sat on the bench with Hermione, staring out at the snowy courtyard. It was dusk and the light was fading, leaving the courtyard a dusty pale pink colour, the snow glittering in the last rays of light.
"It's Ron. He broke up with me... For Lavender." Hermione made a tiny noise and started to cry again, barely even noticing when Draco pulled her closer to him.
"What are you doing?" She blurted, but didn't bother to pull away. It was mainly because she knew it would be no use, but also because it was strangely nice.
"What does it look like?" He retorted, but his voice didn't have the usual sarcastic bite.
He held her like that until the tears had stopped and Hermione had calmed down.
"Why are you here, Draco?" She asked quietly, watching his grey eyes carefully. Was he avoiding her chocolate gaze?
"Because I was walking when I heard you. By the way, since when have we been on first name terms?" His usual smirk was playing on his lips, but his arm was still around her.
"Slip of the tongue," she said hurriedly, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Plus, you're the one who hugged me. Don't make fun of me."
Draco laughed.
"I'm not making fun of you - just pointing it out."
Hermione paused, still blushing. "Why did you hug me anyway, Dra- Malfoy?" This time when she looked at him, he was definitely avoiding her gaze, instead watching the light drifts of snow beginning to fall from the grey clouded sky.
"Because I like you," he replied casually, his fingers playing with a strand of Hermione's thick brown hair.
"You- what?" Hermione spluttered, pulling away and facing Draco with a look of disbelief on her face.
"I... Like... You," he repeated, a look of casual disinterest on his face. When Hermione thought about it, he was actually rather good-looking - wait, what was going on in her head?
She mentally shook herself. "Since when?"
She couldn't help the surprise in her voice - Draco liking her, a too-smart Muggleborn? Draco, the famous Prince of Slytherin?
"Since a few months ago," he said, dismissing it with a shrug. When he caught a glimpse of her surprised face, her raised an eyebrow, an amused half-smile playing on his lips. "Trust me, I didn't choose this, Hermione."
She blushed when he said her name, trying to shake it off and ignore the feeling in the pit of her stomach that made her want to leap on Draco and - well, snog him basically.
"Could be hormones?" She muttered, knowing fair well that it wasn't.
"I thought you were the cleverest witch of our age?" Draco snorted, rolling his eyes. "Of course it's not hormones."
Hermione swallowed. "Is it bad that I think I like you too?"
"Not at all," the blonde replied smoothly. "I don't blame you when it's someone as good-looking and talented as me- ow!" He cut off as Hermione hit him in the shoulder, rubbing where she'd smacked him with her fist. "No need for violence," he muttered, then glanced at her with a grin.
He stood up, dropping his bag on the bench and tying his green and grey scarf in a knot around his neck before running to the expanse of fresh, untouched snow, scooping up a handful of the cold, fluffy stuff and moulding it quickly into a ball and throwing it at Hermione, who shrieked and leapt off the bench, yelling "Draco!"
After a while of attempting to dodge the snowballs continuously being aimed at her and chanting "No wonder you're not a Chaser!" Hermione decided to fight back and, with a flick of her wand and an inaudible mutter, Draco was being pelted relentlessly by snowballs, his shouts muffled by the dull thud of tons of snowballs hitting him.
"Hermione, stop!" He yelled, raising his arms above his head in an attempt to protect himself, and failing.
"What's the magic word?" She called sweetly.
"Expelliarmus?" Draco said, then shouted again as the onslaught increased. "Please! I meant please!"
The snowballs stopped hitting him and he lowered his arms cautiously, his robes and uniform covered in droplets of melted snow. He looked over to Hermione and shook his head, his cheeks flushed pink with the cold.
"That was unnecessary," he said, grabbing his bag and Hermione's wrist, pulling her inside the castle.
"You started it," she replied with a shrug.
"Will you go out with me?" Draco suddenly asked, his hand still holding her wrist, his touch warm.
"I- I-" Hermione stuttered, shocked, before gathering herself. "Of course," she said with a shy smile, Draco's easy grin prompting her to hit him again.
"Ow, Hermione!"
The Transfiguration classroom fell deathly quiet as the bushy-haired girl and the platinum blonde stumbled into the classroom, blatantly late.
"So sorry, Professor-" the girl began, but the boy cut her off with a smirk.
"We didn't hear the bell. We were... busy."
The class immediately began to whisper to one another frantically as Hermione blushed and looked down at her shoes, smiling, and Draco stood easily, a smirk on his face and his hand holding Hermione's.
"Granger, Malfoy - what in Merlin's name is going on?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply, just as confused at the display of affection the students who were most well-known for hating each other's guts. The silence was broken by the squeaking of Neville Longbottom's kettle, which had a tail, whiskers and fur and was attempting to shuffle over the surface of the desk.
The Professor simply shook her head when she received no reply, making her way to her desk and sitting down, pulling out parchment, a quill and a pot of ink.
"You may be seated, and five points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin for lateness. Ask your classmates for what we're doing in lesson. Back to work, class!"
Chatter immediately began, and the scratching of McGonagall's quill was drowned out.
'Dear Albus,
You were indeed correct about Granger and Malfoy. They have just made their way, ten minutes late, into my lesson, holding hands - apparently they were 'busy'.
Please remind me about the Cockroach Clusters and the Butterbeer next time we take a trip to Hogsmeade.
Regards,
Minerva.'