Hey guys! This is only my second oneshot so be nice. It's based loosely on the song 'Born Bob Dylan' by The Veronicas and I love that song so give it a listen if you ever get the chance. If you think I should post the song lyrics let me know and I'll update.
Please please please review!
Draco smiled fondly down at the sleeping Head Girl. She must have fallen asleep reading on the couch as she was clutching quite a large book to her chest, and she was in what looked like a seriously uncomfortable position. She was right in the center of the couch, and her legs were bent under her, her torso bent awkwardly, her head at the most absurd angle.
Giving an almost silent chuckle, Draco reached for her book and marked it with a spare, clean quill before gently lowering her torso to the cushions of the couch, her head resting on a pillow. Becoming more comfortable, Hermione automatically snuggled into the pillow and made a contented sound.
Draco sat down next to her, watching her sleep so soundly. By the sounds of her screams at night, she wasn't sleeping well. Neither was he. It wasn't easy to sleep when the screams of the dead ran through your head every night. Like Snape, Narcissa and Draco had both been double agents, and when the Dark Lord fell, they were both granted leniency. Draco was allowed to return to Hogwarts and Narcissa joined the Aurors in the hunt for escaped Death Eaters. Lucius, on the other hand, had remained true to the Dark Lord and had killed himself when the Death Eaters had lost the War.
Draco had been genuinely shocked when he was named Head Boy. He had assumed that McGonagall, who had been designated Headmistress, would name Potter or Weasley or even Longbottom and would never even consider a Slytherin like himself. But, true to form, the old witch had surprised him. Unsurprisingly, though, she had also picked Hermione.
Draco thought back to the day they had arrived back at Hogwarts, trying to figure out the new layout after the remodeling. The way the halls and rooms seemed so foreign but so familiar at the same time, the way even the ghosts, old and new, seemed lost and confused, the way the teachers looked on in amusement as students tried to figure out where they were. And it had remained that way for days. The students would arrive for a charms class and find out it had changed to a transfiguration class.
When McGonagall had called the Head Boy and Girl into her office to discuss their duties, she made it clear that she would not tolerate any fighting whatsoever, and if such a thing occurred, they would both lose their badges. They had both grudgingly agreed.
The first problem had occurred when they had to figure out the Head dormitories password. Draco wanted 'Slytherin For The Win' and Hermione had wanted 'Gryffindor Reigns Supreme'. They had finally settled for 'Huffleclaw and Ravenpuff'. After that, there were many small problems, so the Rules were made, hanging from the wall in Hermione's elegant script.
1) Study time is allocated between 6pm and 10pm on weekdays and 1pm to 7pm on weekends. Noise is to be restricted to low levels during this time.
2) Mocking of Slytherin and Gryffindor houses is forbidden. Mocking of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff is acceptable, but only on Quiddich days.
3) The words 'Mudblood' and 'Death Eater' are forbidden. Under no circumstances will these words be used.
4) When friends are visiting, mocking and snickering will be kept to a minimum. By both parties.
5) Residents of the Head dormitories will only be called by their given names.
Draco laughed at the Hermione-ness of the Rules. The day she had decided on them, she had come out of her room carrying parchment and a quill and ink.
"This is ridiculous." She had stated, glaring at him. "We need to set some rules."
"What you got in mind, Granger? I think we're good."
She had ignored him and set to work, hastily writing out her rules. She had asked him if he had any comments, after which she made some quick adjustments, shortening the study time and adding a restriction to the insults. They had hung it on a wall directly opposite the entrance, so it was the first thing either of them saw when they came in.
After the Rules were decided upon, Draco and Hermione had hardly fought, choosing to give each other space to do as they pleased. The first time they had a civilized conversation was when Draco noticed Hermione staring off into space one day, tears sliding down her cheeks.
"What's wrong with you?" He had demanded. She had quickly wiped the tears from her face and glared at him.
"Master of sensitivity, you are." She hissed sarcastically. "For your information, it's my mother's birthday and I don't even know where she is. So excuse me if I'm feeling slightly put out."
It had taken Draco a few minutes to reply. When he did, his voice was grated and quiet. "I know how you feel. I haven't seen my father in-"
"You know nothing of how I'm feeling! Your father was a murderer!"
"Yes, but he was still my father. Regardless of the fact that he was not the nicest of people, it does not mean I don't miss him. So I do get it, whether you believe me or not." She had looked at him in confusion, and then just nodded, like she accepted his words. He sat down next to her, keeping a few feet of distance between them, and she had cried as the sun went down, Draco giving the only comfort she would let him- his presence.
After that, there grew a tentative sort of respect. They would ask each other for opinions on homework, complain about Head's duties, and whine about friends and teachers. Somewhere along the lines, a friendship had grown. Draco was unsure when and how it had happened, but neither he nor Hermione was willing to bring that discussion up.
Draco stared down at the sleeping Hermione now and wondered how that friendship had come to this. How had he suddenly and completely fallen for the uptight, bushy-haired bookworm of a witch? Why couldn't he stop thinking about how pretty she was when she was angry, about how her lovely eyes shone with excitement when reading a good book, how her laugh sounded like the call of a thousand veelas? Why did the sound of her voice make him feel like he was floating in light? And why did she not notice how easily she made him speechless, too stunned by her kindness, her compassion, her generosity and strength and bravery and intelligence to utter a single sound?
She began to curl up into her pillow, her face tightening and Draco knew she was having a nightmare by the distressed sounds she made. Shifting forward a bit on the couch, Draco reached out a hand and ran it over her forehead and cheek, trying to soothe her.
"It's alright, sweetheart. It's alright, I've got you." She relaxed into his touch and shifted but didn't wake. Draco didn't take his hand away from her forehead, gently stroking her wild hair away from her face.
She looked so beautiful to him in that moment. So small and fragile and beautiful. He wanted to protect her from what scared her so much in her dreams. He didn't know what he was doing, but he didn't want to stop touching her. Part of him wished she was awake so he could talk to her, hear her voice, see her eyes, but the other, bigger, louder part of him wanted no such thing. That part of him wanted to stay here and touch her, guard her sleep.
"You know, 'Mione," He said, being very careful not to speak above a whisper, "When I was younger I was always told that I must be composed. 'Never let your feelings show, Draco. They're a weakness and the Malfoy's don't show weakness.' And then, when I came here and suddenly I was in the presence of all these kids, I didn't know what to do. They were all so excited and scared and thrilled and nervous all at once and I was just supposed to be still and quiet and full of family pride and dignity." He chuckled at the memory of his eleven year old self. "Did I ever tell you I was a huge Harry Potter fan? I mean, he defeated the Dark Lord. You have no idea. All I heard from my father was how the Dark Lord was so powerful, so great, so wise, and so cunning and a freaking baby had defeated him. All I wanted to do was meet him and shake his hand and be his friend, you know? But I was so busy being a Malfoy I completely blew it.
"And then there was you, the muggle-born, suddenly saving everyone and becoming all chummy and smart and knowing everything about everything, completely showing me up, and becoming friends with my idol. No wonder I was so vicious to you. But that's no excuse for how I acted. I know that. I'm so sorry for how I treated you, Hermione. I know I can never make it up to you. I've been so stupid, so blind to the truth and- Merlin, I'm talking like an imbecile." He leant back a bit and ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I'm sorry, I'm not saying this right." Sighing deeply, Draco ran a hand over his face. "How am I supposed to say this right, Hermione? How can I possibly tell you what I'm feeling when I never was supposed to have feelings in the first place?
"If I told you everything about me, would you run away? Should I tell you everything about me? I don't even know, 'Mione. I don't know anything anymore." Draco smiled for a moment before grinning self-mockingly. "I'm going to embrace every possible cliché known to muggle or wizard and say that I only know one thing for sure anymore: I love you, Hermione Granger. I have for a while and I don't see an end to it in the near future. I know I'm being a cowardly ferret by not telling you while you're, you know, conscious, but if I didn't say it, I feel like it would be wrong. You should know. Even though you don't actually know… and now I'm rambling. See what you're doing to me? I blame you for my rambling idiocy, just so you know." Draco shook his head and bent down to kiss the girl on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hermione."
After a moment, he stood up and walked towards his own bedroom, not looking back.
"Well, that was a very pretty monologue." Said a very amused sounding voice from the couch. Draco froze by his door. "Neither sophisticated, graceful or sane, but pretty nonetheless." Very slowly, Draco turned around and stared at the grinning witch. "You didn't write that down, did you?"
Draco opened his mouth, and upon realizing he could think of nothing to say, he closed it again. He tried several more times, but no sound came.
"What?" She asked, starting to stand up from her position on the couch. "Nothing to say? Use all your words?" She took a few steps towards him, but stopped just short of him.
"When did you wake up?" He demanded, though it sounded embarrassingly like a plea.
"Around the idol part." Hermione eyes were twinkling in mocking amusement and Draco felt his stomach tie into ever-tightening knots. He covered his face with his hands and groaned, feeling like a complete moron.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." At that, Draco felt Hermione's hands pulling on his, forcing him to meet her steady, brown gaze. She was smiling at him, that wonderful smile that made him feel like he was covered in light.
"No, Draco. I liked it. I liked you saying it." Gently, she placed both her hands on either side of his face. "Although I thought I was going to have to be the one to do so." Draco blinked, completely bewildered by what she was saying.
"You mean…"
"I mean, Draco, you complete and utter moron, that I love you too." Her statement was straight, even and unyielding, but there was an undercurrent of emotion there, profound and true and real. Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"But how- what- I mean-"
"Just shut up and kiss me." Hermione demanded, lifting herself onto her toes.
And that was exactly what Draco did.
So, thoughts? Good? Bad? Mediocre? I love that word: Mediocre. It's a good word. People don't say it often enough. Me-di-o-cre! But I digress. To all those reading my other stories: I will update them soon-ish but this just came to me. It hasn't been thoroughly edited so sorry for any mistakes or inconsistences.
Have fun, say hi, REVIEWW!
Love Stormy xoxox