Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognise. Nothing at all.
A/N: This is just a one-shot that I wrote a long time ago. I felt that I should put it up.
The Last Midnight
Hermione Granger glanced up at the twinkling stars, which littered the midnight sky like a rich, dark tapestry. She noted that there wasn't a single cloud, as she walked along the dewy grass, towards the dark lake. Her long, silvery dress robes dragged along behind her, gradually becoming more and more saturated by the rain that still lingered on the newly mown grass, as she walked sadly. If she concentrated hard enough, she could still hear the music and laughter issuing from the Great Hall, clear around the other side of the castle.
She wondered how any of the students below seventh year were getting any sleep. Then she realised that they probably weren't even trying. Who was going to get the sleep the day before returning home for the holidays?
Hermione sighed as she took in the mist that hung a few inches off of the grounds. It was uncharacteristic weather for this time of year; however, Hermione thought that it suited her mood perfectly.
What she couldn't face, what she was struggling so desperately hard with, was the fact that these were the last few hours that she would be in the castle; these were the last few hours that Hermione could call herself a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This was the last day of her seventh year.
She reminisced back to seven years ago; when she was young, insecure and almost killed by a mountain troll. Had it not been for Harry and Ron, it would have succeeded. She had been thrust into an unfamiliar world, where people like her were treated with prejudice and disdain. She had had no friends and had tried so very hard to hide her sadness and loneliness. Every cruel word had cut deeply; every whispered remark behind her back had stung worse than the hardest smack. So, she had set out to prove that she belonged in the wizarding world as much as any pureblood or half-blood child did. She had learned what true friendship and loyalty was. She had formed bonds that could never be severed.
Then, she thought about last week, when they had finally defeated Voldemort, once and for all. By the end, no one was afraid to ay his name anymore – save for his followers, who were all now either dead or in Azkaban. She, Harry and Ron had fought bravely, and survived. All the professors, the entire Order, many adults and just as many students had severely outnumbered the Death Eaters, and there had been no fatalities from the light side.
There had, however, been many injuries. Many witches and wizards were still in St Mungos, slowly healing from their war wounds. Hermione thought about them a lot, but she was eternally grateful that none of them had died. That fact would have been unbearable.
The defeat of Voldemort, and the departure of the best seventh years that Hogwarts had ever had, was the reason that the leaving party was being held for the first time in Hogwarts' history.
Hermione stopped when she came to an oak tree overlooking the lake. The moon and stars reflected upon the rippling vastness of the water. If not for them, Hermione would have been completely blind to the world around her. Every now and then, the lake would swell and then relax, revealing the exact location of the Giant Squid.
The sparkling trim on her silver dress robes glittered with each movement. She had caught a few glares from her fellow students; probably because they felt that a Gryffindor wearing silver was nothing short of a criminal offence, but Hermione didn't care. She was trying to prove a point. A point that no living soul on the Earth, apart from herself, knew about. On the last day of her school career, Hermione was going to showcase it, even if nobody else would understand.
The reason that no one knew about it, was because her friends would never accept it, everyone would be disgusted with her, and he detested the very space she occupied. If her house, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff thought that her wearing silver was a betrayal of the worst kind, she couldn't begin to imagine their reactions if they found out that she – Hermione Jean Granger, best friend of Harry Potter – was in love with Draco Malfoy.
He would probably kill her just for feeling it. In his opinion, she was beneath him. Her very blood was tainted, and she was everything that he and his family stood against.
As loathe as Hermione had been to admit it, her attraction to him had started back in third year; when she had slapped him for being an insufferable, hateful bully who had tried to get Hagrid sacked. Effectively, it had resulted in her touching him, for the first and only time, to date.
Over the years, her feelings had only become more pronounced. She watched him when he wasn't looking. She noticed his graceful movements and the powerful aura he emanated. She appreciated his textbook good looks and felt a twinge of jealousy when other, more attractive girls than herself, gave him suggestive looks and smiles.
She also noticed his continued offensive behaviour towards everyone else around him who wasn't in Slytherin. His contempt for everyone around him, be they pureblood, half-blood or muggle-born was glaringly apparent. And still, she couldn't help the pull he had on her. Hermione had long ago given up on stemming the feelings that only grew stronger, and more distressing. She didn't know why she continued to feel hopelessly in love with him. He had only ever been cruel towards her. He hadn't been one of the students who had helped defeat Voldemort. He hadn't watched Lucius Malfoy die.
That was probably a blessing.
Hermione didn't know, even now, if he was good or evil. To be frank, it probably didn't even matter. She realised that this was probably the last time that she would ever see him – and she had just walked out. She had forced herself not to look back. Not to think on it. This day had been coming fast, for a long time. Thinking about it only served to break her heart a little bit more. To rip at wounds that had torn open, repeatedly, over the last three and a half years.
She, Harry and Ron had each received letters, inviting them to join the Auror training programme, after Voldemort's defeat. They were to start in a month. They would be the youngest trainees in history.
Tears came to Hermione's eyes as she relived all the pain, happiness, victory, defeat and horror throughout their seven years in the castle, and she didn't do anything to staunch them. Her heart ached so terribly with it all that she didn't think that she could cope for much longer. She was sure that it would burst from the strain.
Hermione watched two thestrals flying above the trees in the Forbidden Forest, a distance away. It was true; she had seen death since her fifth year. She had watched Sirius fall through the veil. She had seen more than anyone of eighteen should have to see.
She was so distracted by the dipping and rising of the skeletal, tamed, winged horses that the unexpected voice behind her made her jump.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor, for loitering, Mudblood."
Hermione swivelled around to face the pale blond hair, silver eyes and extremely handsome face of the Slytherin Devil himself; Draco Malfoy. She didn't say anything. Her heart had stopped.
"You know very well that the old fogie Dumbledore said that no one was aloud outside. It's either in the Great Hall or in bed. You are in neither." He smirked at her. The same, malicious, smirk he had used since he was eleven years old and Hermione hated herself for finding that just as attractive.
Hermione regained her voice, along with the now rapid beating of her heart, but her voice remained quite steady, and steely. "Take the points, Malfoy. I don't really care. I don't even care what you call me, but don't you dare insult Albus Dumbledore, because that is uncalled for."
She looked him up and down. She couldn't see anything, but she had gotten a good look this evening, when he had walked in wearing the high necked, velvet, formfitting dress robes. "But, by rights, I should also take points off of Slytherin, seeing that you are also breaking the rules by being out here, with me."
Hermione ignored the tingle that rushed through her body at those last two words. She swiped at the tears that she had forgotten were still on her cheeks. She didn't know if he chose to ignore them or just hadn't seen them. However, she was certain that had he seen them, he would have tormented her mercilessly about their existence. It was for that reason that she decided it was probably the former.
His smirk deepened. "I'm head. I was patrolling."
Hermione stared at him. Her expression remained emotionless, on the outside. "I'm head, too. If I recall correctly, Malfoy, patrolling doesn't include outside of the castle. But the, I suppose you're just looking for any excuse to take points off of Gryffindor, right? Just hoping that Slytherin will win the house cup for the first time since you began your education her. It wouldn't surprise me in the least."
The smirk slipped from his face. However, it was only for a moment. It reappeared almost instantly, only this time, it was laced with suppressed anger. "No. I do it because your whole stinking house deserves no points at all."
Hermione nodded once and then turned her attention back to the distance, to see if she could spot more thestrals. Her heart was ready to implode. She just wished that she could get back onto a thestral, again, and leave all of her troubles behind her. This was saying a lot, as she hated flying more than any other activity, in the wizarding world.
Malfoy stepped a little closer to her. "You know, Mudblood, you're really disgracing your house, wearing a Slytherin colour and all."
Hermione shrugged, barely acknowledging his presence anymore. She was tired. Her eyelids were heavy and prickling with fatigue. She leant back against the oak tree and let her mind wander. The night was chilly and this was the last time she would stand here. She had come out to be alone, only to end up with the one person she was in love with, as a companion, and he was being nothing but cruel. Although, she supposed that she didn't expect anything more from someone who hated her.
Hermione looked at the lake for a few more seconds and felt the tears returning. She knew that Malfoy was becoming more and more agitated by her lack of a retort, but she didn't care. She blinked rapidly to get rid of the tears and turned away from Malfoy and the tree; intent on returning to the castle and going straight to bed.
Minerva McGonagall watched as the Head Girl left the Great Hall, misery written all over her person. She noticed the Head Boy follow her, not long afterwards. She stood to follow them, so as to stop any arguments that were sure to arise. She was half way out of her chair before she felt a hand on her arm, stopping her.
Professor McGonagall looked at the long-fingered hand and then into Albus Dumbledore's face. She searched his eyes and was quite sure that he had witnessed it, too. As was the case, he probably knew what she was going to do.
"Leave them be, Minerva," he said, softly.
"But, Albus!" she protested. "They do not have the best track record and you saw Miss Granger's face. She's upset enough without him adding to it."
Dumbledore looked at her steadily and she understood. He knew everything that went on inside the castle. Sure, his methods weren't always the right way to go about things, in her opinion, but he got results. Even if it came about after her students had been allowed to put themselves into mortal danger. She sighed but couldn't find a reason to doubt him at the moment, so she resumed sitting and staring around the room at large.
Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville and Lavender sat around a huge table, with heaping plates of food, just talking and having a good time. Students in sixth year and below were allowed to attend the party if someone from seventh year invited them. Each student was only allowed to invite one person.
Harry stopped laughing and looked at Ron. "Where's Hermione?"
Ron broke off his conversation wit Neville and thought back. "She said that she was going to the loo." He looked at his watch. "That was twenty minutes ago." He turned to Lavender. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but it doesn't take that long to urinate, right?"
Lavender screwed up her face in disgust at her boyfriend's choice of words. "No, Ron, it doesn't."
Ron nodded knowledgably at Harry.
"Come on!" Harry stood up, grabbed his cloak, and left the Great Hall, with Ron and Ginny following close behind.
One of the few times Hermione had spent too long in a girl's bathroom, she had almost met the business end of a mountain troll's club. Whilst Harry didn't think that it was anything quite as drastic or dangerous this time, he was still worried about her. She hadn't been herself at all the entire night.
Neville, Luna and Lavender didn't feel as if it was their place to intrude, and resumed talking and eating.
Hermione hadn't taken more than two steps before a strong, warm hand dragged her back and she felt the tree against her spine again. Her heart began to pound with a mixture of surprise, anticipation and a slight sprinkling of fear. She looked into his deep, silver eyes and wrapped her fingers around the trunk of the tree, waiting.
"What, no 'goodnight'? No 'have a good life'?" he asked softly.
Hermione's eyes grew even wider at the lack of malice in his tone. It was completely different to any tone she had ever heard from him before. She didn't have time to ponder it, though, as her lips were immediately claimed by his. The kiss was unexpectedly soft, light and breathtakingly passionate. Warmth spread throughout her body. She felt like her whole being was completely alive. Hermione didn't even consider thinking twice in that moment, she just kissed him back. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her mind had switched to autopilot whilst her heart jarred behind her ribcage.
She could feel the fingers of one of his hands moving, lightly, up and down her arm, whilst his other hand rested against the tree.
It took Hermione a little while to realise that Draco Malfoy was kissing her; the one person she had wanted to kiss for three and a half years, but also the person who, up until two minutes ago, was insulting her, her headmaster and her house. Her brain suddenly started working again, and it had always ruled above her heart. Whilst her heart would get caught up in girly, emotional aspects of life, her brain reminded her that she needed to stay grounded. Her brain was what had kept herself and her two best friends alive for seven years.
The fact was that Draco Malfoy hated her. He was probably using her to let out his frustrations. For all she knew, he had a bet on with his fellow Slytherins. See how easy the Mudblood really is. This was all wrong.
They broke apart and Hermione found that her cheeks were wet with her tears, again. She couldn't see his face or read his emotions, so she did the only thing she could think of. The only thing any good Gryffindor would do; she turned and ran.
Ginny looked at her boyfriend. "Harry, she wouldn't be outside. It's against the rules. Hermione, as Head Girl, would not break the rules."
"Hermione, as Harry Potter's best friend, would," Ron mumbled, not loud enough for Ginny to hear. He knew his sister's temper well.
Harry fished around in the deep pockets of his cloak and pulled out the Marauder's Map. He kept it with him wherever he went, nowadays.
He studied it for a few moments. He started at it for a second too long before looking up whilst pocketing the square of parchment. "She's by the lake." He paused for a beat, looking uncomfortable. "With Malfoy."
Ron's eyebrows drew in; his expression showed that of barely controlled fury. He turned and ran for the closed doors of the castle. Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance and followed the hot-headed redhead. His track record wasn't the best when it came to Draco Malfoy.
Upon reaching the doors, Harry, Ron and Ginny pushed them open and descended the stone steps. It was under the light of the moon that they saw a girl with long, messy hair running back towards the castle, only to be stopped by someone with hair that looked like the colour of molten silver.
Ron continued down the steps, but couldn't get much further because two pairs of hands had stopped him. He turned to Harry and then to his sister. There was an irrational look about him. "Let me go. He could hurt her!"
Ginny shook her head. That didn't make sense at all. They were Head Boy and Girl. If he'd wanted to hurt her, he could have done it during the countless occasions that they'd been alone together. "What can he do? I hardly think that words are going to hurt her anymore, and I think that she's more than proved that she can look after herself."
Ron stopped struggling, but it was obvious that it was against his better judgement. Harry and Ginny kept their hands on him, just in case he decided to make another dash for their friend.
Hermione didn't think, she just kept running. She knew that it was dangerous; that any moment now, she could trip over her skirts and fall, face first, into the sodden grass. The only thing she could think was that she needed to put as much distance between herself and Malfoy as possible. She needed to stop crying.
The other thought running through her head was: What the hell just happened? One part of her was elated – she had finally experienced what she had wanted to for over three years, but another part of her was angry and upset. Sure, it had surpassed all of her expectations, and then-some. However, he couldn't just do that after treating her so rottenly for seven years.
Hermione angrily wiped her tears, again. She was headed in the general direction of the castle before she was pulled to a halt once again, "God, talk about déjà vu," she hissed, under her breath.
She whirled around and faced Draco Malfoy again. She wished that she could see what was happening within those silver eyes. Alas, all she could see what the moonlight, reflected within those big orbs.
Yanking her arm out of his grasp and glaring at him, Hermione seethed. "What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" She took a few steps back. "How dare you?"
He did the one thing that made Hermione want to wring his neck. He shrugged. "I'm a Slytherin. Do you really need to ask that question?"
She still couldn't comprehend the lack of malice in his face. With all of the spoiled, nasty, selfish snobbery gone, he looked so much more human and better looking – if that were even possible.
"You're with Pansy. You hate me," she said.
The expression on his face darkened. This look, Hermione was more used to; more familiar with. This, she could deal with. "I am not with Pansy Parkinson, and I don't hate you."
Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Oh, please! You hate everything about me. You hate that I'm a Mudblood! You hate that my best friends are Harry Potter and Ron Weasley!" She advanced on him with every point she made. For his part, Malfoy didn't move a millimetre. "You hate that I'm a Gryffindor! You hate that a lowly Mudblood beats you in every single class! You hate that I helped defeat Voldemort! But most of all, you hate that I actually have people that care about me!" She was shouting at the top of her lungs but she didn't care. Right now, she didn't care who heard her. After all, she wouldn't see them again after tomorrow.
Malfoy closed the last remaining space between them as Hermione stood her ground. "You're right, for the majority of what you've just said. Almost everything you said is true… but you missed one thing: I hate that I'm in love with you."
Hermione stopped. She stopped breathing, she stopped blinking and she stopped thinking. She just stopped. "You what?!" she finally gasped, when she resumed bodily functions.
Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You heard. Everything you said doesn't compare, or hold any meaning, when compared to that fact."
Hermione shook her head, slightly – disbelievingly. If only she could see his eyes. I prickle of irritation was also growing within her. How dare he tell her he loved her?! How offensive to put it in such a context, also. No girl wanted to hear that the man who loved her hated the fact that he did. The prickle of irritation continued to grow, until it was all but consuming her. Fury was coming fast on its heels.
She glared him down. "I don't believe you. Up until this very moment, you've been nothing but a… Slytherin to me!"
"I am a Slytherin!" he growled.
Hermione looked right up into his face, her expression set, and she whispered, "Exactly."
Her whispered response had been loud enough for him to hear. She wasn't concerned that they were from rival houses. It had never bothered her before, and she didn't understand why the students allowed their friendships to be influenced by something as trivial as which house they each belonged to. However, Malfoy didn't know that, so she used it as her cover.
He was a Slytherin. He was cunning and deceptive and a master of manipulation. He had learned all of this on his father's lap. Probably long before he'd even learned to walk or read properly. Hermione was no stranger to the devious ways of Slytherins. She had been the subject of their cruelty on more than one occasion, and Malfoy had been the ringleader during a lot of them, so no – she didn't believe him on bit.
It was ridiculous to suppose that he was suddenly going to overlook something as important to him as blood; this one thing that had ruled above anything else, his entire life. Something he had been so vocal about in the seven years that she had known him. Something she was absolutely positive that he still believed – no matter how much she showed him, and everyone else, on the contrary.
"Goodbye, Malfoy. Have a good life." She took a deep breath and turned around. She could have sworn that she just saw something disappear between the castle doors. She shook it off as exhaustion and continued her quick walk up to the castle.
Hermione put her hand to her side, to reach for the pack of tissues she kept in her purse. She groaned when she realised that she had left it in the Great Hall. Even though she didn't desperately need the tissue, she still needed her wand and money. As safe as Hogwarts was, she couldn't trust that someone wouldn't steal from her.
It was with her friends, so she was sure that nobody had stolen anything from it up until now. She walked up the stone steps and into the castle.
"Oh dear, she's turning around. What do we do?" Harry asked, in an uncanny imitation of a panicked schoolgirl.
"I say we wait, make sure she's OK, and then pummel Malfoy," Ron said, vehemently. His arms were crossed and he was glaring at Malfoy's silhouette.
"Oh, shut up, Ron!" Ginny cried, slapping him upside the head. "Come on! Back to the party."
Ron grumbled about how it seemed a lot like running away. Harry and Ginny ignored him. Harry pushed the heavy doors open and entered, followed by Ginny and, lastly, Ron; who turned back to glare at Malfoy one last time before entering and letting the doors thud close behind him.
Hermione spotted Harry, Ginny, Ron, Lavender, Neville and Luna sitting at the same table that they had been occupying when she had excused herself. Hermione smiled. It was weak and shaky, but it was genuine. "Hi, guys," She said, when she reached them.
"Does it take that long to go to the loo or was there a queue?" Lavender asked, laughing.
When her eyes fell upon Hermione's tear stained face, she paused – the laugh dying as quickly as it had appeared. "Dear god, Hermione! Are you ok?"
Hermione looked at them in confusion. Everyone at the table turned to face her at Lavender's exclamation. It was then that she realised that they were talking about her crying. She cursed herself for not remembering to dry her cheeks before approaching her, sometimes, overly-sensitive friends.
As if on cue, Ron angrily shot out of his chair. "Right, I'm going to kill him! He's made her cry and as it's out last day, she should be happy."
Hermione reeled. "Who 'he'?"
Ginny grabbed her brother's arm and forced him back into his seat so aggressively that Hermione feared she had dislocated his shoulder. "For Christ's sake, Ronald Weasley! Will you please keep your arse glued to that chair, or I swear to God you'll regret it. You know me well enough to know I'm not kidding!"
Ron stared at her moodily but refused to acquiesce to her demands.
Hermione grabbed her tissue and cleaned herself up, somewhat. Then, she repeated. "Who 'he'? Ginny?" She turned enquiring eyes on her best, female friend.
Ginny looked a little bit uncomfortable. "He means Malfoy."
Hermione's eyebrows drew together. "Why would you think that he made me cry?"
Ginny was at a loss. How could she explain to Hermione without letting slip that they had been spying on her? It wasn't as though they had seen anything condemning.
"Because who else would be able to make you cry?" Harry asked, coming to Ginny's defence.
Hermione huffed out a bark-like laugh. She couldn't tell them. "He has never been able to make me cry, so why would I let him get to me now?" They shrugged. "No. I was just thinking about everything I've experienced these last seven years. I'm sad because I'm leaving. I'm going to really miss this place."
Her friends' expressions grew wistful and they nodded in agreement. They had all been through so much in the castle; both together and individually. They had learned so much, and almost lost so much as well.
"But Neville's coming back as Herbology teacher, next year," Ginny said, giving him a little shove. "It's going to be weird; being taught by somebody I went to the Yule Ball with, and fought alongside."
Neville smiled slightly and colour rose to his cheeks quickly. He was embarrassed every time someone mentioned his, quite major, part in the fight.
"She's mine!" Harry said, mock aggressively.
Hermione waved her wand and her purse disappeared to her room. It saved her having to carry it, and forget it again. She turned to her friends. "Guys, I'm going to bed. I am completely exhausted and I need rest. I'll see all of you in the morning, okay?"
They wanted to argue, to complain, to make her stay and enjoy the last day of Hogwarts with them. Ron wanted to grill her further, but the look on her face laid waste to all of their protests. They all nodded, hugged her and said goodnight.
"I love your dress," Ginny whispered to her.
"Thank you," she whispered back. She pocketed her wand and gave them one, last look; committing the scene to memory, then headed towards the door that led out into the main entrance.
"She looks so sad," Neville observed, understandingly. He watched her walk almost mournfully across the hall.
"Well, she provided a plausible explanation as to why," Lavender stated as she popped a mini dumpling into her mouth.
"Maybe she'll have perked up a bit, tomorrow," Harry said thoughtfully. He sipped his pumpkin juice and watched her closely. She has always loved Hogwarts, and her magical education. However, he wasn't convinced by her explanation. Even with the end of their Hogwarts career drawing to a close, she seemed more upset than was strictly necessary. He was sure that something else was wrong.
Harry looked at Ginny and noticed the significant look she was aiming his way. She was thinking the same thing. Friends who know each other really well are not so easily placated.
"Or, maybe right now." Ginny smiled, but it looked more like a frown. She was looking at someone across the room that had brought halt to Hermione's departure.
All five friends turned as one to see who Ginny was talking about. Ron immediately leapt out of his chair again. Ginny glowered. "Is there a hex on that chair, Ron? Does it kick you out of it at regular intervals, or is it just a medical condition?"
Ron was ignoring the younger redhead, and he above all people should know not to try this particular redhead's patience.
Ginny growled, much like Crookshanks did, on random occasions. "You sit back down, Ronald Bilius Weasley, or you are going to learn, first hand, what my Bat-Bogey hexes feel like!"
Ron could not ignore Harry tugging him back into his chair, via his robes. It was for his own good, because he was afraid that his girlfriend would hold true in regards to the threat directed at her brother.
Ron sat and continued to glare moodily in the Heads' general direction.
Hermione's yawn, followed immediately by a sneeze, caused her eyes to close as she continued towards the exit. Before she had a chance to open her eyes, she had collided into something warm, hard and tall. The scent that clouded her senses was so familiar, that she lost the fight to bite back a groan.
Stepping back, she opened her eyes to look into the face of Draco Malfoy. Hermione closed her eyes in defeat at the heat that suffused her from the darkened look he bestowed upon her. "Malfoy, please!" she pleaded. "Tomorrow, I'll be gone and you need never see me again. There's no need for these games, right?"
Malfoy's eyes darkened even further; they looked dark grey, instead of their usual, swirling sliver. "You think this is a game?"
She realised that he probably didn't appreciate people walking away from him. 'Him' being Draco Malfoy; the pureblood who always got his own way. Hermione was quite distressed. "I don't know! I can't figure it – you – out!"
"You think I didn't care what happened to you? You think that I wasn't there a week ago? That I didn't watch my father die?"
Hermione gaped at him. "You weren't there."
"Of course I was, but Dumbledore made sure that I was disguised, just in case. It was his idea; for fear that I would be left with my father's retribution, if the good side lost." He stepped closer. "I was quite prepared to go into that fight looking like me."
Hermione's mouth was still open, but this time it was due to speechlessness.
He took it as his cue to continue. "I refused to stay behind whilst the only person that I loved and cared about was out there, fighting. My world is dark and dangerous. There have never been very many emotional attachments. I've always been taught to keep a distance, to not let anything or anyone matter to me. But, with you… you're bright and good. You're the one thing that makes sense to me. I can't help loving you. Even if I wanted to."
Hermione looked at him – trying to discern any kind of truth from him, but he was too difficult for her to read. "Malfoy, this is too public a place for you. People could eavesdrop, blackmail and shun you. It would ruin your status in the community. Besides, how can you be sure that I even care for you in that way?"
Malfoy just smirked at her in a knowing way. She realised that this was his way of proving to her that he was telling the truth.
Some of the silver returned to his eyes. "Does it bother you that I'm a Slytherin and you a Gryffindor?" he asked.
She looked into his eyes and knew that she would – for the life of her – never be able to lie to them. "No," she answered softly.
"Well, I don't, either. After tomorrow, they will be nothing more than a figment of a memory, if even that." He indicated the Slytherins, who were also watching their interaction with curiosity. "I was hoping to do the same with you. That tomorrow, I would just let you walk out of my life, and my emotions… but I can't. It's a stupid notion, and in all honesty, I don't want you to walk out of it."
Hermione looked up at him, sardonically. "Well, you're going to have to, Draco." She hitched when she said his given name, and glanced upon the shock on his face. "Because, I could never be with someone who hated the fact that they were in love with me. And, whatever you say, what your housemates think still matters to you. It always will. They're your family."
Malfoy's expression turned stony. "You believe that? I don't hate being in love with you. I hated that I couldn't fight it. I'm sure you wouldn't have found it any easier. But, it's happened, and I'm relieved! I wouldn't wish it to be any other way. I'm a better person for it. Besides, that was the only opening I could find to tell you. What the Slytherin's think really doesn't motivate me, Hermione. I will always be a Slytherin – true, but I don't care that you're a Gryffindor."
Hermione smirked, much like him. She was gushing inside, at the fact that he'd used her name. She mustered up all of her nerve and Gryffindor bravery as she said, boldly, "Prove it."
It was all the invitation he needed. Swooping down, he claimed her lips for the second time that night. Hermione responded instantly. She kissed him back with all the passion that she had had locked up for him for over three years. Her eyes drifted closed. With her hands around his neck and his on her waist, she allowed him to deepen the kiss; opening her mouth to him. In the distance, she heard Pansy shrieking, a few gasps, many catcalls and a hell of a lot of clapping. Hermione's head spun with the intensity of the kiss, and her knees were about ready to buckle. She was pretty sure that they would have, had Malfoy not had such a good grip on her waist.
When her lungs were almost about to implode from lack of oxygen, they separated.
He rested his forehead against hers. "How was that?"
Hermione smiled. "Exceptionally good. But what will people think?" she asked, innocently.
"I couldn't care less," he snarled.
"And I think Pansy had a heart attack."
"I can but dream," Malfoy replied, wistfully.
She punched him on the arm, laughing. "That's mean."
"Well, I am a Slytherin, and not everyone can be born compassionate. It's a rare trait. Hey, now that I think about it, I owe you twenty points."
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Yore making me feel like a hooker."
He laughed. A genuine, happy sound which made Hermione's toes curl in delight. "No, I just meant because I took them off you outside."
Hermione shook her head. "I know what you meant, and you do realise that Gryffindor will win the house cup again, don't you?"
"I do." He shrugged.
"But my blood -" Hermione began.
Malfoy backed up so that he could look at her properly. "I'm not stupid, Hermione. I thought blood mattered when I was growing up because that was what I had been brought up to believe. Then I turned eleven and started at Hogwarts. I met you. You were clever, sharp witted and brave, so imagine my shock when I found out that you weren't pureblood or half-blood; you were muggle-born.
"That was when my beliefs went down the loo. Your first year of magic, and you were miles cleverer than any of the pureblood witches and wizards who had grown up around magic. In second year, I tried to hold on to the inferiority of your blood by calling you a mudblood, so I kept calling you that. But I, myself, never believed it. I was cruel as a cover. Even now, outside, but it was only a defence mechanism. So you wouldn't suspect. I didn't mean to hurt you."
Hermione laughed. "That name never bothered me. The thought that you actually believed what you said is what upset me. The first time I heard it was when you used it on me.
Malfoy looked over her shoulder then took another step back. Seeing the look on his face, she turned around to see what he was looking at. Seeing Ginny walking towards her with Harry and Lavender close behind froze her on the spot.
Ginny's expression was unreadable as she came to a halt a few steps away from Hermione. Their eyes met and Hermione was so focussed on the redhead that she didn't notice Harry and Lavender step up on either side of Ginny. Their eyes held for a few more seconds before Ginny's features broke into a huge smile and she enveloped her best friend in a hug, with a resounding, "Finally!"
Hermione broke from her friend's embrace with a look of confusion. "What do you mean 'finally'?"
Ginny looked sheepish. "I've known that you were in love with Malfoy for the better part of three years."
Hermione's mouth stood agape. Some part of her acknowledged that the whole hall – with the exception of Pansy Parkinson – was listening to this conversation, including said Draco Malfoy. She was worrying that his ego would be too large for the room if she asked the next question, but she needed to know. "How? I never told anyone."
Ginny shrugged. "I saw he fleeting glimpses you threw at him, how you never let Harry or Ron hit him – apart from your fifth year, of course, but then, you weren't down on that Quidditch pitch. Besides, friends can always tell. Also, you should learn to properly dispose of parchments that have 'I love Draco Malfoy' scrawled across the top in two foot long letters; written in your neat, legible writing, because not even litter bins are safe anymore. Things can fall out."
Ginny was grinning widely. Hermione was flushed as deep a red as the young Weasley's hair. "Oh, dear God!"
Harry walked past Ginny and Hermione – who was now hugging, and laughing with, Lavender, and walked right up to Malfoy. He figured that keeping things nice and simple would be best. "You hurt her and I'll kill you."
Malfoy surveyed him for a few long moments and then smiled when he saw no plans to inflict immediate pain, in Harry's eyes. "Agreed."
They turned and stood beside each other as Hermione delicately asked, "Where's Ron?"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "He's partaking in tryouts to become a rug."
Off Hermione's confusion, Lavender helpfully supplied, "He fainted."
"Ah," Hermione looked towards the Gryffindor table, worriedly. The, she looked at Malfoy. "Think we got everyone's blessing?"
"Everyone's except those who don't matter." He meant the Slytherin's. "And I'm sure others will come round." He meant Ron.
Hermione nodded, trying to convince herself. "OK."
Malfoy nudged her as Harry, Ginny and Lavender smiled at her encouragingly.
OK, that's done. It's long and it's only a one-shot. I've never done one before, so I hope you liked it.
Please read and review. No flames, please.
Dina x x