This is something bittersweet I wrote during my lunchbreak. Not sure where it came from, might have been the fact that I was listening to My Love from Sia at the time.

Emjoy and Review!

He was sitting in his room, on the wide four poster bed with the silk canopy. He had been sitting here for the best part of an hour now. The Aurors were downstairs, interrogating his father and mother. Mainly his father really. They would be coming for him soon. He would be questioned and then... He didn't manage not to shiver. The thought of spending the rest of his days in Azkaben was more than just frightening. It was terrifying.

There were steps outside his door. He closed his eyes trying desperately to steel himself for what was to come. But instead of just barging into his room the ministry official coming for him knocked on the door. It took him a moment until he actually realised it.

Another knock, a bit louder this time.

With slow, defeated steps he walked the short distance to the large double doors. His hand shook as he reached for the door knob. The door swung back without the slightest noise. His head was bowed down and he had his eyes closed. So, this was it. This was how it all ended for him, barely eighteen years old and condemned to a fate worse than death.

He would have expected somebody tall and strong to just grab him and drag him from the sanctuary of his bedroom, but nothing happened. Slowly raising his head while opening his eyes again he saw a slender figure before him, a female figure. As his gaze hit her face he gasped in shock.

"You?" he whispered.

There was no verbal answer. She was looking at him intently though, as if her eyes could see right through him, right to the bottom of his soul. A cold shiver ran right through him. His breath caught in his throat as the hint of a smile was touching her lips. This was even worse than some Auror that was only doing his job. This girl, this witch before him... she had an axe the size of Britain to grind with him. Anybody else might have been going not quite as hard on him due to his age, but her... She had been on the receiving end of his taunts, pranks and name calling for as long as they knew each other. She wouldn't go easy on him. She would be doing her best to make his life hell and he couldn't really blame her. He would probably do the same, if their roles were reversed.

"You've come to arrest me?" his voice betrayed his feelings to her.

She shook her head.

"No, not yet. I've been sent to talk to you."

Talk to him... She was sent to talk to him!

His disbelieve must have been showing on his face as she was now looking rather calculating at him. Then, without waiting for his invitation, she gently pushed passed him and entered his room. He froze as her hand was brushing his. For a moment it felt like hot water being poured over a piece of sheer ice. Tension crackled through him, a surge of heat engulfed his body and then it was gone again as if nothing had happened.

He slowly turned around. She was standing in the middle of the room. Her face was showing a soft, caring expression. It made him shiver. She would let him sweat, would make sure he spilled every last secret. He knew better than to expect any compassion from her.

Why had it to be her of all people? Even Potter or Weasley would have been better rather than her. She was clever, knew how to think on her feet. He wouldn't be able to hide anything from her and there was no way he could use any spell on her she wouldn't know how to counteract. He was doomed and he knew it.

"It's just like I imagined your room to be." her voice could be heard.

"Is it?" the moment the words left his lips he felt like hitting himself over the head.

'She's just trying to make you feel at ease before she pounces. Stay alert.' he reminded himself.

"Yes. Spacious, with expensive furniture and without any warmth."

Without any warmth... What was that supposed to mean?

"Eh?" he felt like an utter idiot. Why for Merlin's sake did he feel so woolly brained because of her?

"Yea." she smiled.

He nearly flinched back. She smiled at him, openly, warmly. This wasn't the sadistic, revenge taking smile he would have expected. It felt... genuine. It made him feel even more on edge.

"Why are you here?"

He groaned. What was it with him? It was bleeding obvious why she was here, wasn't it? She had been sent to extract all that he knew about Voldemort and the other Death Eaters. This was his interrogation before the actual trial.

She stepped a bit closer and he instinctively took a step back hitting his back against the still half open door.

"Shaklebolt thought it might be best, if I talk to you before the Aurors take you away. He thought you might be a bit more willing to cooperate when you could talk to somebody you already knew."

Her expression was soft, but there was also something else. Was it her hoping he tried something? That he would give her the excuse for hexing him? He would try his utmost not to!

"Okay?"

He wasn't quite sure what she expected of him.

"I wasn't sure, if that was a good idea. Harry or Ron would have been better to get you to confess to any crimes you've committed."

'You have no idea...'

He closed the door and then went to his bed. Sitting down on the edge he felt the soft sheets beneath his fingers. There wouldn't be anything as nice as these sheets or this bed for him ever again.

"What do you want to know?" he decided to get it over with.

She came over to the bed and sat next to him. Not really close but there was only about a foot between them. His skin erupted into goose bumps.

"Why did you call me a Mudblood?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again.

'What?'

"Sorry?" he croaked.

"Why did you call me a Mudblood in second year?"

Oh yes, the day that was the beginning of the end of any kind of friendly terms he might have been on with her. He thought about it for a moment. Why did he call her a Mudblood then? He finally shrugged and gave up to find some deep, meaningful reason, when the truth was so much simpler.

"Because I was jealous."

Out off the corner of his eyes he could see her frown.

"Jealous?"

"Yes."

"Why? What was there for you to be jealous of?"

"You had real friends. The teachers liked you and you had the audacity to tell it as it was. I had my way bought onto the Slytherin Quidditch team because I wasn't yet good enough. I was jealous of Potter as well. He got on the team in first year, when I had intended to get him detention instead. Hurting you would hurt him."

Warped logic of a twelve year old, but she did seem to consider it for a moment.

"Was there any valid reason for you to hate me?"

Now it was his turn to furrow his brows. What kind of interrogating tactic was she employing here? Did she just want to have him reliving all the nasty moments of their past, before she made it clear to him that she had won in the end after all and he was going to prison for being a... He didn't even want to think about what had been done to him. The Dark Mark would mar his skin for the rest of his life. It would bear witness to the fact that he had chosen the wrong side. That he had not been thinking for himself but had just followed orders.

He sighed. No, he had thought it through for himself, a hundred times in fact as he had struggled to repair the Vanishing Cabinet. Nobody had seen the tears he had shed in that room, trying his best to stay alive while at the same time having to act the confident, superior pureblood his father wanted him to be.

"Was there?" her voice intruded into his thoughts.

"What? No."

His eyes widened in surprise. He had just answered her question without thinking about it and he knew from the bottom of his heart that his answer was the only correct one. There was no valid reason for him to hate her. Then again, did he really hate her? To his astonishment he found that he didn't actually. He had been wexed by the fact that she was better in every class they had together and his father had giving him an ear full every time she surpassed him didn't help either. He had begrudged her the willingness of the teachers to look passed her misdemeanours, which were laughable in comparison to what some student had got up to.

He saw a smile on her lips now. Slightly turning he looked at her, genuinely looked at her. He realised that her hair was different shades of brown as the sun hit it. Her skin was a soft peach colour and looked like velvet. His gaze travelled over the rest of her body. She was looking quite nice. He blinked. Had he just thought that she, Hermione Granger, was looking nice? The smile on his lips contorted into a frown. What was she doing with him? Was this some kind of spell? Was he under the influence of some kind of magic?

She turned slightly. The expression on her face was... indescribable. She smiled and got up.

As she was about to walk past him he got hold of her wrist before he was thinking about what he was doing. Her deep, brown eyes met his. He gulped. What was he supposed to do now. What could he say? What did he want to say to her?

He felt a shiver ran through her as he slowly pulled her closer. His gaze never left hers. Gently his fingers moved from her wrist to her waist as she stood between his legs now. His other hand slowly followed the first. His breath caught in his throat as she tenderly cupped his face woth her warm hands. Any other time he would have been trying to lean back as far as possible, if she had moved closer the way she did now. He felt himself meeting her halfway. Her sweet breath was feathering over his skin. A deep blush was staining his cheeks. What ever magic she was using on him... He didn't care.

Her lips brushed tenderly over his, just for a moment, but the world stopped for him. He would have done anything to make this moment last for all eternity. She was gone before he could do or say anything, but not before whispering, "One day, Draco, one day." against his mouth.