Hello all! I wanted to take a shot at DM/HG. This is just a little oneshot.

Everything belongs to JK Rowling or Shakespeare

Enjoy! R&R per favore!

-Bella

Where Civil Blood Makes Civil Hands Unclean

Hermione walked with stride down the hall, which turned into a sprint in order to arrive to Transfiguration class on time. Nightmares once again made it near impossible to drag herself out of bed. Sleep was little and precious with the war impending. Her life and those of the ones she loved hung in the balance every second of every day. It taunted her; she only dared to have hopes that outlined the tentative shadows of their futures. She shook the thoughts from her ever busy mind. She turned the corner only to run into a mass, which caused her books and parchments to disperse accordingly.

"Oh! I am so sorry," she mumbles, embarrassed at her sudden clumsiness, "This is just the type of day I am having and I…"

Hermione noticed the quality of the shoe forced into her line of vision, which was now placed over a piece of her potions essay. It was a very nice shoe, too nice to be worn on a typical school day. It had a small snake embroidered into the heel with a beautifully scripted silver "M". She knew what this meant.

She looked up to see Draco Malfoy glaring at her from above, his usual place of superiority. Hermione stopped and regained composure as she continued to gather her materials feverishly. Her new goal was to simply get out of her current situation as quickly as possible. Bullocks to Transfigurations, she thinks. Just then, the grey-eyed boy bent down and picked up a piece of paper from the debris. His silence and cold countenance almost frightened her. He was poised, too much for her liking. He read aloud:

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;
Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows
Doth with their death bury their parents' strife

Hermione cringed at the butchered rhythm with which Draco read the text. She shook her head.

"Shakespeare," she murmured. She fidgeted with her robes, not believing the amount of time she had allowed herself to be in the same presence as this contentious arse. She had taken to writing out the playwright's work in order to ease her mind. She found the language beautiful and calming in times of distress.

"Yes," Draco responded knowledgeably, "He was a great wizard in his day. Very noble blood"

Hermione paused and stood with her mouth agape. Her face resembled that of a young school girl being called out by a Professor, and she not knowing the answer.

"The great Hermione Granger speechless?" he goaded her; "Surely, you realize how many great men and women of your muggle history were actually magical? Pity, I never liked you, but I always had respect for your intelligence. Now I seem to have lost some of the minimal esteem I held you in"

She laughed sardonically.

"Learn something new every day, I guess," she sneered," To be honest I am just in shock that we have stood in each other's presence for this long and have been, what one might call, civil"

Once she collected all of her belongings she turned to leave without another word. She felt fingers enclose around her wrist. Draco manically pulled her towards him, their faces almost touched. She inhaled sharply.

"Granger," he started very slowly, speaking through his teeth, "If we get through this war, and that is a huge IF, since I don't plan on making it to my next birthday, then I will make amends for all the snide comments and prejudice remarks by my loud, spoiled mouth. I will ensure that you are cared for, and I will make sure that no one so much as touches a hair on your obnoxious, overly zealous, and condescending head...and you will not tell a soul I said this, or else I will use Crucio on you until your pretty little neck breaks"

She exhaled, realizing that she had stopped breathing. They hold close to each other, taking in the other's eyes, scent, being-it was overwhelming, intoxicating. He let go and turned his back towards her. Hermione looked at him, amazed at the war this boy waged inside of himself, only to take on an exterior one. She was afraid; she ran, willing herself to forget the tormented grey eyes of Draco Malfoy.

Draco turned to see a mass of curls whirl around the next corner. He sighed, she can never know, not until I am dead. He looked down to see a piece of parchment the frazzled girl had left behind. He picked it up and read the script:

My only love sprung from my only hate!
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,
That I must love a loathed enemy.

Draco laughed his way back into the darkness of the dungeons.

Thanks for reading! Again, please R&R!

-Bella