Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything related to it, just the idea.

Author's Note: This will mostly be drabbles that, together, will make a story but they'll be out of order. This is my writer's block therapy and I hope you enjoy! This has been edited.

She sat at the fire, in the far plush chair, reading just like she did every night, but tonight he couldn't take his eyes off her. Her breakdown had happened a week ago. All of her emotions about the Weasel and Potter and Voldemort and the war all coming to a boil at once, but it seemed like it had just happened an hour ago. Things were still tense between them, an understanding about their unspoken truce still not coming to them. It was almost as if they wanted to have someone there for them who could understand, who could match themselves in wit and overall intelligence, but there was still the matter of Draco being a pureblooded Slytherin prick and Hermione being a Gryffindor goody-two-shoes know-it-all. They held strong to their principles and values and those always seemed to get in the way of their need to be there for each other in ways that, as of yet, no one else had been for them.

And, through all of this, they had both shown their want to be there for one another; the desire for some sort of equal companionship had been too strong to quash. When Draco had felt the stress of his past offenses, his father's imprisonment and his mother's depression, Hermione had been there for him, holding him together and letting him know that there was still something to live for, all without needing a single explanation. And now, Draco had been able to return the favor, despite not feeling like he had to. Hermione had shown a moment of weakness, an extremely rare occurrence, and instead of throwing it back in her face, he'd been there to hold her together too, and let her know that she wasn't alone.

And now he couldn't stop thinking about her, thinking about their similarities and how she was so much more than her blood and the colors scarlet and gold. She was more than just an obnoxious, stuck up know-it-all who was on the other side of the fence. She was even more than her silly school girl crush on the boy who couldn't see passed the food gracing his plate. She was loyal and fierce and brilliant in more than just books. She was a force of nature and she not only intrigued him, she enchanted him, bewitched him even. No pun intended.

Upon this realization he turned his attention to the fire. How was this possible? He'd developed feelings for the girl he'd hated, for the mudblood. Even thinking the word repulsed him. How could he have used such an ugly word for the beauty sitting mere feet away from him. She really was gorgeous, and not in the way the Greengrass sisters were; flawless and attractive in all the right ways. Hermione was better; she had flaws, her hair wasn't sleek, her lips weren't always smooth, her clothes weren't tailored to make her look sexy and she never wore makeup, but she was real, more real than any girl he'd ever met, and because she was real, the way she was real, made her more gorgeous than any girl he'd ever met. And say she wasn't as real as she was, say she started charming her hair to be less frizzy and stopped gnawing on her lips and managed to swipe some balm on every once in a while, wore her clothes sexier and put on some mascara and rouge; she would still be Hermione, just a little more made up. That's what made her so gorgeous; no matter what, she never stopped being Hermione. She truly was gorgeous, although he'd probably never admit it to anyone.

The fire danced around the hearth, its heat allowing Draco's thoughts to become a warm, all-engulfing blanket. The only thing that could shake him from his reverie now was the object of which it centered on, and that she did.

Hermione, noticing that she could no longer keep the words on the page from blurring together, closed her book quietly and looked to the warm fire that was still going strong. It was comforting to see such a strong, golden fire, much like the ones from the Gryffindor Common Room. It was like having a little piece of her childhood in her new home, the Heads' Dorm. The gold and red hues flickered excitedly against the white marble inlaid with the intricate emerald green design and the colors went perfectly together. She smiled a small smile, realizing how relaxed she was, seemingly the first time in a long time, and then she looked to her dorm-mate. He stared into the fire, lost in thought, and she couldn't help but be mesmerized by him. The flames jumped along his features, much like they did the mantle, and just the same, they fit perfectly. She'd come to realize she found him stunning, fire or not; his sharp features that could be intense with anger, concentration, anguish, and, recently discovered, compassion. His grey-blue eyes were a mirage of emotion and with each one they were entrancing. It was hard to look at anything but them. His hair, despite being a mark of his family and blood, was visibly soft and tempted her to touch it, to caress it. She had yet to, obviously, but the temptation was sinfully constant. His beauty went beyond his looks, however, this realization coming quite recently. He was brilliant. She'd always known that between his grades and his quick wit, but his ability to comprehend and analyze the complexities and dynamics of situations was astounding. The only difference between Hermione and Draco in that area was that Hermione had a thirst for knowledge, any knowledge, even the knowledge of what made Draco Malfoy tick. Draco on the other hand was only concerned with the knowledge that directly influenced him, therefore knowing anything more than that Hermione was a mudblood didn't effect him until recently, therefore he hadn't cared. He truly was gorgeous, although she'd probably never admit it to anyone.

Slowly swinging her legs from over the arm rest, Hermione gathered what little energy she had left and hoisted her insanely comfortable body out of her favorite chair. It was way past her bedtime, her book had been too good to put down, and she needed to settle into her equally comfortable bed.

This is when Draco was pulled from his thoughts. The object of his thoughts got up out of her chair, surely about to go to bed. His eyes immediately shot away from the fire and he couldn't stop them from raking up her body. It wasn't in a completely sexual way, but he was taking her in, this girl that he'd just realized he had feelings for. Real, true, deep feelings. She was getting up to go to her own bed and sleep with her own dreams and he was suddenly scared of not seeing her again. It was a bizarre, inexplicable fear, one that had no support or reason, but it was there and as she said, "I think I'm off to bed," in her soft, sleepy voice, the desire to keep her in the same room was overwhelming. He didn't know what to make of this feeling or even how to handle it. She crossed in front of him, just fitting between him and the coffee table, her leg brushing his knees as she passed. His heart sped up and his mind stopped thinking comprehensively all together. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins so rapidly that his mind went almost completely blank and only one thought remained.

Hermione.

With adrenaline comes action and just as she'd passed him on her way to her dormitory, Draco stood from his spot in the middle of the couch and his hand reached for her. He caught her arm just above her elbow and the feeling of completeness was even more overwhelming than the adrenaline. His hand felt at home on her sweater-covered arm and he pulled her back towards him. It took little effort as she was tired and unprepared. He pulled her so she was facing him and as she turned, her swirling chocolate eyes immediately met his flame infused ones and his breath caught. He'd looked in her eyes before, a million times actually, but this was the first time that he needed to look into them. In that moment her eyes became his entire world, there was no other reality than Hermione's earthy orbs.

And then his hands were on her face, thumbs caressing her cheeks a little forcefully, the tips of his fingers massaging the hair on the back of her neck, and his lips had an inescapable magnetic pull towards hers. He didn't break eye contact until the millisecond before his lips touched hers and the instant they did, he was overwhelmed. The fiery electricity was all-consuming and he was lost in the feeling. He welcomed it wholeheartedly and let it fill every millimeter of his body, feeling it absorb into his stomach and chest and toes and legs and arms and hands and face. All that existed were her plush lips as he massaged them with his own. There was nothing like feeling his ministrations being reciprocated. The swell within him was the most powerful force he'd ever experienced and the sense of pure happiness was translated from the sense of belonging. It was a welcome heat, even better than that of a warm fire, and it started in his chest and spread throughout him.

He wanted to be lost in this moment and never let it go, but the need to see her eyes, to understand how she felt, hoping to see his own feelings reflected in her brown pools, tugged persistently at his stomach. So, finally, with a small groan that could easily be mistaken for one of want, he pulled himself away, feeling as if he was forcefully disconnecting two magnetically sealed forces. Relishing in the feeling of her lips on her own, almost as if they were still there, he had to coax himself to open his eyes, not wanting to lose that heat that had filled his chest. And when he finally did open his eyes, he didn't regret it. There were her chocolatey eyes, now having darkened to almost black but offset by vivid shots of gold. They were looking intensely into his own eyes. They were even more gorgeous than he could've imagined they'd ever be, they were the most stunning eyes he'd ever seen. The look of confusion that graced those entrancing eyes gave a slight pang to his stomach until he realized that although she was probably confused as to why he had kissed her in the first place, the confusion that shown in her eyes was as to why he'd stopped. A sudden eruption of joy overtook his midsection and he couldn't help the sexy, genuine smile that spread across his face. An equally sexy and happy one began to mirror itself on hers and he knew, in that one second, that he was where he was supposed to be with the one person he was supposed to be with.