The First Reason

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. That honor belongs to J. K. Rowling

Author's Note: Now, personally, I am not a huge fan of the Dramione pairing. However, one of my best friends is, so I wrote her this story as a birthday present.

So, Cynthia, happy birthday! And everyone else, please enjoy!

Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley would like to announce the engagement of their son, Ronald Bilius Weasley, to Hermione Jean Granger.

Angrily a hand reached out and crumpled the newspaper, remaining tightly clenched in a fist, nails piercing into his skin.

How did it come to this? Why did he have to love her so much? When had he begun to feel this way? What was the first reason?

Year One:

He had never really noticed her much at first. Yeah, she was a know-it-all and a show-off, but he didn't bother paying a Mudblood much attention. Then she had to go and become friends with Potter.

Potter, of all people! He already had the Weasel (which was reason #6 that he despised the Weasel. Reasons 1-4, of course, all had to do with his idiotic Muggle-loving family and their disgrace to wizard kind.) And someone like this was able to become friends with the Harry Potter when he himself could not! That was reason #5—that this blood traitor could achieve what he, Draco Malfoy, had failed to attain. Then Potter had to go and become his nemesis, with Weasel as the annoyingly dedicated sidekick. Of course Potter would have to go and gain the brightest witch in the year (not that he ever admitted it aloud) on his side too.

So, that sealed the deal. Hermione Granger was worthy of his attention. Worthy of his despise.

Year Two:

In retrospect, he realized that he hadn't really meant what he told Potter and the Weasel. (He found out that it was them a while later, piecing it together from the testimony of Crabbe and Goyle. The fact that they had been able to make it into his common room just made reason #37 to hate the Weasel, reason #65 to hate Potter.) As a naïve twelve-year-old, he didn't realize the full ramifications of death. He hadn't wanted her dead. He just wasn't capable of wishing that of anyone.

That's not to say that he didn't still despise her. It was nice to have a Granger-free month while she was petrified. And he was glad how that Mudblood finally got what was coming to her. But he hadn't actually wished her dead.

He hadn't realized how she was the first one to come to mind when he thought Mudbloods. And it wasn't just his hatred of her friends that set her apart in his mind like that.

Year Three:

He still couldn't believe that she had actually slapped him. She had dared to slap him, a Malfoy!

Granger just didn't understand how the world worked. So what if he was using his injury from that stupid Hippogriff to his advantage? The oaf was a horrible teacher, no doubt. Those … things that he would breed later proved that. She should be grateful to him that his actions would provide a better teacher for her. She'd get to learn more, which was just what she wanted.

But did he receive any gratitude? No. She was too short-sighted, too helpful, too darn compassionate. Of course Goody Two-Shoes Granger would try to help the oaf. Not that it did any good. Compassion didn't get you anywhere. She just didn't understand how the world worked.

He didn't notice that in all of his condemnation of compassion and care he was hoping for gratitude from her. Thinking about how what he was doing just might please her.

The one satisfactory thing for him was watching her little row with the Weasel. Maybe she would wise up and ditch the dweeb. But, of course, she was willing to forgive him when she wouldn't even give Draco Malfoy half a chance! Once again, the Weasel had gotten something he hadn't. Reason #73 to hate him.

Year Four:

Looking back, he wondered why he hadn't been bothered by that Rita Skeeter article. He decided that he liked the idea of her using Love Potions—for several reasons. Somewhere in his subconscious he recognized what he was beginning to feel, and he wanted it to be merely the result of some potion. Not even his subconscious wanted to consider the possibility that Draco Malfoy could start to fancy Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger! Every fiber of his being went against liking her. She was best friends with his worst enemies, for crying out loud! (Although Potter was really his worst enemy, he lumped the Weasel into that category also. But even though she was best friends with him too, he still didn't consider her an enemy….) She was annoying, overly brainy, not exactly the image of drop-dead beauty he always envisioned, and on top of it all, a Mudblood!Before he even fully realized what he was feeling, he was grappling for excuses, and a Love Potion was the easiest one.

There was, however, another reason he wanted her to be using Love Potions. He didn't want to think that Krum and Potter might fancy her too. He could see that even the Weasel was falling for her! Yes, even though his subconscious was grappling for a way out of these feelings, he was incredibly jealous of anyone else having similar feelings. For if a Malfoy fancied a girl, he would rest at nothing to make sure no one else could. And even in this circumstance, where it seemed impossible for anything to ever happen between him and Hermione, he didn't want anyone have her if he couldn't. Subconsciously that became another reason for him to hate Potter and the Weasel. They had a chance. He didn't.

But that was just his immature fourteen-year-old subconscious' reasoning. He didn't remain that way for long.

Year Five:

At first, nothing made him happier than Perfect Potter being discredited. He deserved it! Seeing Potter's misery delighted him.

But then he saw that Saint Potter wasn't the only unhappy one. Once again, Granger had to be so darn compassionate and felt bad for her pathetic, disgraced friend. Why did she care so much? What made Potter worthy of her attention? Why couldn't she be happy?

It was then that he realized exactly what his feelings were—when he realized how much he wished he could somehow make her happy. He spent hours agonizing over how, and why, but never found an answer. He had no idea what was the first reason this had happened – only that it had. He, Draco Malfoy, had fallen in love with Hermione Granger. And he wanted nothing than more to make her happy.

But what could he do? She hated his guts. He couldn't do anything helpful for her. He knew what made her unhappy, but it didn't seem like he could do anything to make her happy.

So, maybe, someone else could. He'd hate that person for it, but it'd be worth it to see her happy again.

Year Six:

It was the hardest year of his life. Faced with an impossible mission. Feeling the weight of his family's lives on his shoulders. Knowing that if he somehow miraculously succeeded, he would only permanently estrange himself from any hope of redemption.

It didn't make his work any easier to see her pine away for the Weasel. Reason #119 to hate him. The stupid blood traitor just had to make his life even worse by making her unhappy.

He knew that she went to Stupid Slughorn's Christmas party with Moronic McLaggen just to make the Weasel jealous, but that didn't make much difference to him. If anything it was worse. She was still trying to attract the affection of someone else, but she was unhappy at the same time. Could nothing go well for him?

However, he couldn't spend much time brooding on that. He brooded more on his mission. On what disaster the Dark Lord would wreak upon his family if he failed. What disaster he would wreak upon himself if he succeeded. For if he did succeed, he'd lose any hope of turning back, away from the Dark Lord and toward her.

Year Seven:

It was torture.

Oh, he knew it was far worse for her. He had been forced to work for the Dark Lord for nearly two years now; he knew what that pain was like. He knew that torture.

But just watching her, hearing her in that terrible pain, was like excruciating in a different way.. A new way. It wasn't the all-out pain of the Cruciatus Curse, nor the dull heartache he'd been enduring for years, but more of a burning inside.

If he dared, he would have yelled. Yell out for his insane aunt to stop (like she would listen). Yell out to drown out her agonized screams (like his lungs could possibly go that loud). Yell out to express the terrible burning inside of him.

To his horror, he heard it. He knew exactly what the yell would sound like if he dared, and he heard it. But, it wasn't coming from his own lips. Relief and confusion turned to envy when he realized the other scream was coming from the Weasel in the dungeons. The Weasel was free to scream, free to relieve that inner torment, free to scream for Hermione.

And Draco couldn't.

Reason #187 to hate him.

Yet there was something comforting in that cry from the dungeons. Draco recognized the torment in the cry; it meant the Weasel felt the same way he did.

No, it wasn't sadistic comfort that he was taking, comfort in someone else's pain. The comfort came from the knowledge that if the Weasel was that tormented, he would have to really care about Hermione.

He must really love her.

And Draco would do anything, even see her with someone else, if it meant she could love and be loved and never experience the type of heartache he did at that moment.

Present Day:

Draco sighed. Yes, it was worth it. Her happiness was worth it. It was worth his current pain.

He had seen the two of them together, and she certainly was happy. And the Weasel had better keep making her happy, or he would have reason #215 to hate him.

17 Years Later:

He thought that he had gotten over her. And he had done a pretty good job. After her wedding he had realized he should stop moping and pointlessly wishing that there could be something between them.

So he had moved on from her, but never completely away. He started going out with Astoria Greengrass, the younger sister of one of his classmates. Although he never did feel the same way about her that he felt for his first love, he truly did care for her, and he grew to love her in a way.

They had one son, Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. It was thanks to his son that he saw Hermione again; both of them were taking their children to Platform 9¾ to meet the Hogwarts Express. The sight of her after all these years was breathtaking. After watching her for a few moments, she turned along with her husband and in-laws. He quickly gathered himself and gave a curt nod. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bubbly girl with familiar bushy hair. He turned away, not able to watch any longer. Instead he looked at his own family, his own wife and son.

And despite the pain it caused, the closure was good. He was glad to see her so happy. He was glad that the Weasel had actually made her happy.

Reason #234 to hate him.

The first reason to genuinely like him.