A rose by any other name
Draco sat on the emerald green bed in the Slytherin dormitory. He could not believe that he had just yelled at the person who he considered to be the love of his life, the one person who had accepted him for him, and who had looked past the money and the pure bloodedness. His father would be shocked to find that she was a mud blood.
Draco felt terrible. Absolutely, irrevocably terrible. He had said some rather nasty things, such as "I hate you, you mud blood, and never want to see you again". Things like that aren't easily forgiven, by the speaker or the receiver. He wanted to go and find her, but he didn't really want to be slapped right now, although he definitely deserved that. And besides, she was probably in her common room with her brave and perfect buddies, and everyone knew how well accepted he would be in that environment.
Draco placed his head in his hands, running his immaculate fingers through the platinum blonde hair adorning his head. Sure, he was the so-called "Slytherin Sex God", but he was whipped. Way whipped. And by a Gryffindor, no less. A bushy-haired, smarty-pants, mud blood Gryffindor. Yet he thought she was the most beautiful person in the world. There was no other. It was like in the Shakespeare play that she had made him read once, Romeo and Juliet. He thought of one line that had caught his attention: "Oh, she doth teach the lighted torch to burn bright!". It was the line that Romeo had spoken upon seeing the beauty of his Juliet. That was how Draco thought about-her. He could barely bring himself to even think her name. He just couldn't believe that she had cheated on him, but he knew that he still loved her. He pulled out the tattered copy of Romeo and Juliet that she had given him, and began to read Act II. It always calmed him to read that play.
He had just finished Act II, Scene 3 and was about to close the book when an angelic voice from the doorway said, "'Tis but thy name that is my enemy, thou are thyself, though not a pureblood".
Draco turned to see a beautiful figure standing in his room, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes ablaze with anger and yet, still filled with love.
Hermione crossed the room to Draco. She sat on the bed and said again, "Thou art thyself, though not a pureblood." Hermione had always loved Shakespeare. "So act like thyself," she said, using the old English way of speaking.
Draco tentatively reached over to grasp her hand. She twitched, but did not pull away.
"I take thee at thy word; call me but love and I'll be new baptized."
Hermione's eyes glossed with tears. "But, what about the money, and your father, and everything? And I know I was bad, but there was no need for name-calling." She was too overcome with emotion to keep to the Shakespeare forever.
"My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself." he said, his eyes too shiny with tears, but he was too proud to let them flow. "Do you forgive me? And if you don't, is it because I am a pureblood?" he spit out the last word like a bad curse.
And then Hermione used one of Shakespeare's most famous lines from Romeo and Juliet, while scooting closer to Draco and putting her hand on his face. She moved her face closer to his and looked into his silvery eyes.
"A rose by any other name-"
"Would smell as sweet," finished Draco, putting his hand into Hermione's curly hair and kissing her. And that is how they came to be.