Hermione Granger walked blindly through the crowds of students in the over packed hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, her head was stuck in a book and she was only half watching where she was going. Most other students were dragging themselves and their pets out to the carriages awaiting them. They were returning home of the Christmas holidays, Hermione, however, was not.
Her parents had written to her about two weeks ago asking her to accompany them on a cruise around the Mediterranean, but she had declined. Hermione had a terrible fear of water since the tri-wizard tournament when she had to remain under water to be rescued. She was in no way shape or form going to stay (maybe) a float an ocean for two weeks, even if she did get to see her family.
Hermione was getting more annoyed with every passing second. She was in search of a quiet place to study but she couldn't find one. She couldn't go to her dormitory, because Ginny was there, constantly chattering about Harry, she couldn't go to the common room because Harry was there constantly obsessing over Ginny and she couldn't even go to the library because Ron and Lavender had taken it upon themselves to make it simply uninhabitable. Without realising it, Hermione turned down a corridor that was rarely used, as not many people had ever need to go down there, it was an old place to be. Of course, all of Hogwarts was old, but this looked old. Dust covered almost every surface, many windows had slight cracks, and there wasn't even a ghost to be seen.
Hermione, ignoring completely the phrase "curiosity killed the cat," walked farther down the corridor, exploring every crack and crevice in sight. She was staring up at the stain glass windows she walked, ignoring the broken part of a statue that jutted out in front of her, until it collided painfully with her shin.
"FUCK!" She screamed, clutching her leg and hopping up and down on her other foot, unconsciously inching closer to a portrait of a young Godric Gryffindor comforting a weeping Salazar Slytherin. An odd combination, Hermione mused, before suddenly losing her balance and flying head first towards the painting, bracing herself for the painful impact of her head against the solid stone behind the portrait, but it never came.
Instead, Hermione found herself on a plush carpet that was embroidered with pictures portraying both a Gryffindor lion and a Syltherin snake, co-existing together happily. She got up off of the floor silently, and looked around at the odd room. I looked like the Gryffindor common room, but darker. The curtains were a swirling mix of green and red, that didn't clash, though they should have. The furniture was a dark black ash covered in a winding fusion of gold and silver. In the corner a lone piano played a bitter-sweet melody, which mixed eerily with soft, subtle sobs.
Hermione looked around, searching for the source of the sobs, until her eyes settled on a lithe and muscular blonde-haired boy sitting lankily on a large, dark arm-chair. The light from the roaring fire made his skin and hair glow. A glimmer of light reflected off a piece of metal he held in his hand, catching Hermione's attention.
She took a step forward, careful not to make a sound, and assessed the scene before her; Draco Malfoy, she discovered, was holding a sharp blade in his right hand, sobbing, and had a neat row of gashes across his left forearm. The red liquid flowing down his athletic arm was a stark and sickening contrast to his pale skin.
She wanted to comfort him, but was terrified of being rejected. You're a Gryffindor, Hermione. You can do this. she told herself, not quite believing it.
She walked over to him gentle and sat cross-legged on the floor a few feet from him. "Draco," she began gently, but when he didn't respond, she continued, "Draco, I know you don't like me very much, but I need you to look at me." Her voice was gentle, yet firm, demanding he look at her.
He raised his head slowly and looked at her with his puffy, red eyes. His bravado and arrogance was gone. He was not the Malfoy that had called her a 'filthy Mudblood' that very morning. No, this was Draco. This was a broken, tormented boy that just needed someone.
Unaware of what she was doing until it was too late, Hermione slowly got up from where she was sitting and walked over to Draco. All the while, they maintained eye contact; she gentle took the blade from between her fingers and placed it on the desk behind her. She turned back to him, and silently searched for somewhere to sit beside him. When he realised what she was doing, he pulled her gentle on to his lap. This surprised her, but she did not object, instead, she chastely wrapped her arms around his torso, and lay back against his chest. Draco relaxed into the chair, pulling her with him, still wrapped in her arms.
Hermione shifted slightly so she was somewhat higher and she could retrieve her wand from her back pocket. She gently tapped it to each of Draco's wounds, healing them one by one.
"Thank you," he muttered, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck so she wouldn't see the tears that fell from his eyes.
They stayed like that for an immeasurable amount of time, as he wept and sobbed into her shoulder. All the while, she never moved, never asked questions, she just held him, and comforted him. She was exactly what he needed, and he loved her for it.
It grew dark, and Draco's cries had long subsided, but they had not moved. A weird peaceful unspoken harmony had developed between them. It seemed so delicate, neither of them wanted to speak and risk what they had in that very moment. Hermione couldn't explain it, but she felt more safe than she had in a long time when she was here, curled up and wrapped in the arms of her enemy.
It was Draco who finally broke the silence, "I'm sorry." He whispered so quietly, Hermione couldn't be sure if she had even heard it.
"What did you say?" She asked gently, as if the air was so delicate it could shatter if he was too loud.
"I said I'm sorry," he answered her, with a little more force.
She pulled back then to look at him, confusion written all over her face. "For what?" She asked him.
"For being right arse, I've treated you like scum, and you don't deserve it. You're not filthy and you're not a mudblood. I shouldn't have said any of those things, and I'm sorry for tormenting you all these years. I'm sorry Hermione, you deserve better than that." Hermione was completely stunned.
She was touched and a warm feeling rose within her. She didn't know what to say, so she settled with "Thank you, Draco." She pulled him closer to her then, and enveloped this familiar yet newly un-obscured boy into her, and hugged him with all her might. He wrapped his arms securely around her, happy to have her with him.
Hermione pulled back slightly so they could look at each other. She looked into his eyes, and was at a loss as to how she never noticed how beautiful his blue-grey are. Slowly, she felt herself leaning towards him, as he leaned towards her, painfully slow, until their lips met gently.
Hermione closed her eyes as Draco's mouth moved against hers. The kiss was sweet and gentle and affectionate, yet so full of passion, she never wanted to pull away, but all too soon, the kiss ended. And both participants felt forlorn at the loss of contact.
Draco pulled Hermione back down on top of him so her head rest lightly on his chest. All was quite again except for the piano that continued playing in the background, however the music this time was much happier, reflecting Draco's mood. They stayed like that for a while longer, wrapped up in their own little world. Until Hermione's stomach growled.
"Someone's hungry," Draco chuckled, making her blush. He pulled Hermione up so they could both stand up, and released her from his grasp, sending disappointment through Hermione until he grabbed her hand. "Dinner?" He asked her.
She nodded in answer but still seemed somewhat melancholy. "What?" He asked her, "What's wrong?" He was slightly worried now.
"It's... so... loose... know... sorry... like..." She mumbled so quietly he only caught some of the words she said.
He put his finger under her chin and tilted her head up to look at him, "I need you to look at me," he said, repeating her own words back to her. "Now, tell me what's wrong," he stared into her eyes imploring her to see that he really did care.
"ItsJustThatIKnowYouDontReall yLikeMeSoIKnowThatYouDontRea llyCareAboutWhatHappendToday ButIDontWantToLoseThatAndIKn owThatWhenWeLeaveHereNoneOfT hisIsGoingToMattarAndI'mSorryForCaringButIKindOfLik eYou." She said all in one breath, her words running together. A blush crept up her face as she looked anywhere but at him.
"Thank fuck." He said with a sigh, but her confused look made him elaborate. "First, I do like you. A lot. So get the ideas of me not caring out of your head. I know things will be different when we leave this room, but Hermione, I won't lose the one person that was there when I needed someone. It's Christmas, so we have no classes, can I meet you here tomorrow?"
Hermione's eyes lit up at this, she was ecstatic at the idea of spending the whole day with him tomorrow, and he said he liked her! She did a mental happy dance before she leaned up, snaked her arms around his neck before pulling him into a passionate and loving kiss.
"Shall I take that as a yes?" He asked her light-heartedly as they pulled away. Hermione bit her lip and nodded. *Gods that's adorable!* he thought before leaning down to kiss her again.
They walked back towards the main part of the school hand in hand, separating when the hallways started getting more crowed, agreeing to meet again the next morning at nine.