Hermione clutched at the timeturner around her neck and took a deep breath. It may have sounded like a brilliant idea at first, but taking so many classes began to weigh heavily on her. Now that Harry had discovered the secret about his godfather, Sirius Black, it didn't feel right to load him with more problems by divulging the mystery of her impossible schedule. Of course, Hermione had always had a passion for her schoolwork, but lately it had gotten harder to concentrate.
She blamed part of this on her wandering mind. It may just be the lingerings of her overactive imagination, but Hermione could swear that someone had begun paying her much more attention than usual. His name: Draco Malfoy. The idea seemed ridiculous at first, but now she was almost positive that for whatever reason, Malfoy had fixed his sights on her. It wasn't obvious by any means, but a sideways glance in Potions, a loud laugh to turn her head in his direction in the halls, was almost a daily routine now.
Part of Hermione missed the days when all she had to focus on was getting to class on time, but ever since Ron and Harry saved her from a Mountain Troll in their first year, trouble seemed to find them constantly. I wouldn't call Malfoy trouble, exactly, she thought to herself, but something strange is definitely going on.
She kept her eyes focused on her feet as she wove her way through a throng of first year Hufflepuffs emerging from the Great Hall. As she approached the staircase that would lead her to the Gryffindor common room, she heard the familiar guffaws of Crabbe and Goyle near the giant oak double doors. Hermione sighed and turned around, meeting Malfoy's smirk. His hands were in his pockets and his platinum blonde hair was perfectly disheveled as always. The steel color of his eyes made his smile look even colder. She couldn't imagine what he wanted.
"You look a bit tired, Granger. Maybe you ought to lie down," he said.
"What do you want, Malfoy? I'm busy." Crabbe and Goyle laughed behind him and let out a collective, "Ooooh!"
"Watch your manners, Mudblood," he spat. The smile had slipped from his face. "You should be a bit more careful of who you're rude to these days. Maybe Black will find you next." He turned his back and began to walk in the opposite direction to the dungeons.
Hermione stood still, watching Malfoy and his cronies make their exit. When he was almost out of sight, he turned to look back at her. Their eyes met for a brief second, but it was enough to notice the strange expression on his face. There was anger, of course, but also something akin to sadness. No, not exactly. Hermione made her way up the stairs and muttered, "Flibbertigibbet" to the Fat Lady who sat admiring her reflection in a mirror.
It wasn't until that night as she lay in her four-poster bed that Hermione realized what she had seen in Draco's eyes. It was longing.
