A/N: This will be a series of scenes revolving around the relationship between Draco and Hermione. Major events will, for the most part, take place as they do in the books. That being said, this something of an experiment in "what ifs" for me. What if just a few moments were different? What if Draco and Hermione understood each other just a little bit more? What if not every interaction between them was hateful? What if, what if, what if. One last point: I never liked the canon pairings much, so in case it wasn't clear, this will feature Dramione endgame.
Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter is, sadly, not mine. I simply enjoy playing in it.
On the Hogwarts Express for the first time, he looks out of the compartment where he is seated, trunk stowed neatly above him. A witch who looks to be about his age walks past in the corridor. Their eyes meet briefly and he feels a flash of something in his chest but then she is gone. He raises a hand to his immaculately coiffed hair, smirking faintly as he recalls the unknown girl's untamed, bushy mane.
\*/*\*/
When he offers his hand to Harry in friendship, she is both impressed by his overt confidence and taken aback by his disdainful attitude. He seems so self-assured. She read Hogwarts: A History cover to cover twice over the summer but instinctually knows that nothing can take the place of growing up in the wizarding world. Still, his arrogance is offputting, so she ignores the tiny sliver of envy she feels, burying it deep within her heart.
\*/*\*/
He enters the broom shed, intent on investigating the quality of the school brooms before their first flying lesson the next day. Someone else has the same idea. Her back is to him but he would recognize that hair anywhere.
"Getting a head start Granger? Must you be the teacher's pet in every subject?"
She doesn't turn around. "Leave me alone Malfoy. I just wanted to inspect the brooms."
"Why? It isn't as though you know the difference between different types, is it?" he says snidely.
"I simply wanted to see if they are any different from what you use to sweep the floor."
"I don't sweep anything! That's what servants or house elves are for." He steps forward to stand beside her, honestly curious now about what she is doing. "So? Any difference?"
She spins to face him and he is shocked to see that her eyes are wild with something like panic. "Hardly any! They look exactly like brooms, Malfoy. Brooms!"
"Er. . . yes?"
"Exactly! And if they look exactly like normal brooms, how am I supposed to believe that one of them is going to hold me up in the air?" Her voice rises in hysteria. "A broom! A piece of wood is supposed to prevent me from falling to my death?"
"Oh. I see now. You're afraid of flying."
"What? No!"
"Right."
"I just want to make sure the school equipment is safe, that's all," she insists.
"Whatever," he rolls his eyes. "You know that they cast a strong cushioning charm on the grounds for flying lessons, don't you?"
Her shoulders sag in relief. "Oh."
"Yes. Now go away Granger." He sneers hastily, as though just realizing he was actually marginally nice to her.
She glares at him, but leaves. "Goodbye Malfoy."
The next day he catches her eye, raising an eyebrow in amusement when he notices her surreptitiously patting the ground at the beginning of their flying lesson. She flushes slightly before standing and turning away quickly.
He grins.
\*/*\*/
When Harry tells her about the Mirror of Erised after his conversation with Dumbledore, she cannot contain her curiosity. She is confident that she has enough self-control to not become one of those who waste away in front of the artifact, and she wishes to see what the mirror would reveal for her.
She gathers her courage that very night and sneaks out the dorm, somehow feeling quite brave but simultaneously scared witless at the thought of getting caught. Though she has always been a follower of the rules, her natural inquisitiveness refuses to let her rest until she has looked in the mirror, and so she sets off to find the enchanted glass that Harry had described.
She discovers that she is altogether too nervous for her liking once she finds it. What will it show her? Will she see herself as Head Girl at the end of her time at Hogwarts? Maybe it will depict her at the top of a successful career, renowned in her field and accepting a new accolade?
She steps in front of the mirror, eyes squeezed tightly shut, heart beating a tattoo against her chest, lips pursed together in anticipation. Finally, she opens her eyes—
—and gasps in shock. She only looks at the image before her for a few moments before fleeing, but she knows it will be seared into her mind forever.
An older version of herself, seated in a tastefully decorated room, reading a book before the fire. She looks up with a bright smile as though someone unseen is calling to her. The book is carefully shut, then set aside, the firelight glinting off a ring on her left hand. She reaches up both arms, and a man with a toddler on his hip becomes visible, though with his back to the viewer. She takes the curly-haired child, who snuggles into her lap. The three are obviously a family, the love thick in the air around them. The man leans down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead, then stands and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, his own ring catching the light briefly, before stepping back outside the field of view.
The man and the child are blond.
\*/*\*/
At the end of year feast, the hall is decked in Slytherin green, and she is sorely disappointed. She had, after all, worked hard in her classes all year, and had earned (more than) her share of house points for Gryffindor. When she glances across the room to the Slytherin table, though, she is surprised to see that Malfoy sports a genuine smile—not a smirk—and is laughing with his yearmates. Not a one of them appears to be mocking the other houses, or anything other than joyful at having won the House Cup.
When Dumbledore begins to speak, the hall falls respectfully silent. Hermione is delighted when Gryffindor begins to catch up to Slytherin, and grins broadly at Harry and Ron when the two houses reach a tie. A tie for first place is nothing to sneeze at, after all.
Her innate sense of fair play kicks in and her exuberance fades, however, when Dumbledore continues to speak. Winning is lovely, but awarding points to Neville for standing up to his friends? It rings hollow in her ears, and she can't help but feel that Slytherin has been cheated, somehow.
When she dares to glance across the hall once more, the Slytherin table is silent, and her heart drops when she sees an older student comforting a crying Daphne Greengrass. Then Malfoy looks up and they lock gazes. For just a moment, she can see the upset writ large across his face, before he wipes his expression clean, replacing the distress with a blank mask. She bites her lip, wrings her hands in her lap, and looks down at the table in front of her.
That night, she sneaks away from the celebrations in the common room well before curfew, and heads to the owlery. She sends the short note off using one of the school owls before returning to Gryffindor tower.
When he receives the note, he is puzzled, but then the ghost of a smirk crosses his face in realization, and he shakes his head in bemused disbelief. He folds the parchment carefully and places it in one of his books to take back to the manor with him.
It wasn't fair. I'm sorry.