"...Well what can you say? She doesn't care."
"Well, maybe - never mind. There she is."
Draco and Blaise looked over at Hermione, who was walking in with Ron, her hand in his. For many nights in a row, Draco had been dreaming of him being in that position instead of Ron. Of course, that was idiotic. Draco was a prat. Everyone knew that, and nobody thought twice about it. Blaise turned back to him and watched Draco's eyes follow her to the Gryffindor table where The Golden Trio usually sat with the other fellow war veterans around them.
"Hello? HELLO?" Someone had been snapping in front of Draco's eyes to get his attention. Of course, it was Pansy Parkinson. Who else? Draco growled in disgust. She was a tart, and he personally experienced that part of her himself.
"WHAT?" He snapped at her. It was louder than he meant it to be and the entire hall went quiet for a moment, then continued with noise. Luckily, no one seemed to notice that it was Draco except the Slytherins at his table.
"Jeez, Draco. I was just trying to get your attention. Why were you staring at Granger (she said her last name with complete and utter disgust, probably angry that he wasn't staring at her) with that expression on your face? Rawr."
Pansy made a stupid cat-like growl to mock his expression. Apparently, he had been staring at her (but he was really just staring at Weasley) with a look that resembled a lion looking at its prey.
"Just giving Weaselbee a warning. He ran into me during Quidditch practice today."
Draco wasn't lying. He really did. But he wasn't looking at him like that for a stupid run-in with the "enemy", he was just purely jealous of him for having Hermione.
But then, he recollected himself. Malfoys did not have feelings. No jealousy, anger, sadness, or even happiness, unless they were laughing in the face of a mudblood - a term Draco had come to loathe.
"Really? Because I think you were staring at Hermione," Crabbe cut in, saying her name all lovey-dovey like. Draco shot him a dirty look.
"Hermione Granger? Ugh, it disgusts me to even say her name. Filthy mudblood. Hurts my eyes to even look at her, or any of the Gryffindors. Fucktards."
Draco honestly hated himself for talking about her like that. He didn't mind talking about the rest of them, but he almost winced at himself saying any of it. However, Blaise shot him a wink and smirked.
"What are you, gay?" Pansy said, seeing Blaise's wink. "I have a feeling you Slytherin boys have a lot more going on in those dorms than the rest of us think." She giggled with other girls around her.
"Eat shit!" Malfoy said, throwing his plate. Spaghetti and meatballs scattered everywhere on the floor. The sound resonated, and the entire hall watched in confusion as he threw open the doors and stormed down the hallway. Blaise ran after him.
"Merlin, you really like her, don't you?" He said, laughing. "What started this, anyway?"
"Like I would tell you!" Malfoy shouted. In all honesty, he wanted to. He needed to get this mess off his back, but he didn't say anything. "Just leave me alone," He said, sauntering off.
Blaise stood back and watched his best friend walk down the hall towards the Slytherin common room. He laughed to himself, then went back into the Great Hall.
Draco took off his robes and laid down on his bed in only black boxers and a white t-shirt. He was freezing, but he didn't care at that point. Not in the least bit.
To start off, Draco started liking Hermione around Christmas, for some reason. He had a few dreams about her, which disgusted him at first, but then they started to affect him. For a while, he suspected that someone had slipped him a love potion - not that he loved her - but knew it couldn't last that long unless an advanced wizard made it, and the only ones who could do that were Snape, Malfoy himself, and Hermione; anyone else would have blown up the common room doing it.
Draco hated it with all of his being. Why wouldn't he? He was a pureblood, and she was a mudblood, even though he eventually started to hate saying it.
Malfoy began to actually despise himself for even having nice thoughts about her. He already had enough on Valentine's Day by seeing Weasley and Granger laughing and kissing at the annual dance.
'Awesome,' He thought to himself sarcastically. 'Completely fantastic!'
Not that he just let his crush start to develop. He was popular around the Slytherin girls, maybe even some Hufflepuffs. No, he had fun on Friday nights and weekends. Mostly it was with Pansy, because she worshiped him, along with the other girls. She was the easiest, and he stopped having any sexual relations with any of them when he started to imagine that it was Hermione. He longed for her.
And he wanted to do something about it, but, of course, he didn't.