A/N: I don't know where this came from. I'm not sure how I feel about it as well.
Words: 1,218.
Pairing: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger.
Date Written On: September 26, 2011.
some say they world will end in fire,
some say in ice,
but from what I've tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire.
but if I had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
to say that for destruction ice
is also great,
and would suffice.
-Robert Frost. (1920)
...
...
She was fire—complete desire, passion, and love for whatever task was put in front of her.
He was ice—cold, shut off, and hatred for anyone but himself and his family.
They were complete opposites in the magical world.
He was a pureblood, a Malfoy no less. His family was powerful. From childhood, he was told to hate anyone not of pureblood decent. He was to be in Slytherin, and wear the green and silver colors proudly. He had to wear a plastered on smirk, his father told him. People had to be intimidated by him. His grey eyes must look everyone over once, never linger.
She was a muggle-born, a "mudblood" to some. She came from two dentists. As she was growing up, her mother and father would shower her with love and teach her to be kind to everyone, no matter how rude they were. She was sorted into Gryffindor, and she always walked down the corridors with her red and gold tie hanging happily from her neck. She was to wear a bright smile. Her brown eyes were to look warm, accepting.
When they encountered each other—him always bearing his cronies, and her always walking along side the other halves of the Golden Trio—he would insult her and her friends (she always said something back, no matter what her family had taught her to do) and then walk away as if nothing happened, the occasional shoulder-hit to Potter, or maybe a step on the foot of the Weasel.
(*)
He steered clear of her until sixth year when he unluckily found her in the girls' lavatory, talking to Moaning Myrtle about something. He would have turned right back around and left, but she looked up quickly. Myrtle smiled at him and flew into one of the toilets, the water slashing.
She continued looking at him, and he was shocked that her usually kind eyes were filled with hatred and passion. He shuffled uncomfortably as he messed with her Slytherin tie; it was loosely tied around his neck and looked as though it was about to fall off, a factor from him pulling at it. His hair wasn't as neat as usual. It was sticking up certain places and it was covering his forehead, which was glistening with sweat. He had run here.
Her hair was more of a mess than it usually was. Her tie wasn't even on, and his eyes followed her arm to where it was clutched in her hand, wrinkling. She had tear marks on her face and was breathing heavily, as if she was holding a new whole batch of tears back. She had come to Myrtle like he came to Myrtle—for help, a confidence.
Myrtle was very understanding, he learned.
She broke eye contact and started to walk past him. Without thinking, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, hugging her tightly. She's stiff for a few moments. He realizes what he's done (if anyone were to walk in and see a pureblood hugging a mudblood, a Malfoy hugging a Granger, it'd be over the school in moments, and his family would probably disinherit him, throw him to the dogs), but he doesn't stop hugging her. All these things running through his head only makes him hug her tightly, his face burying into her crazy mess of brown hair.
She hugged him back after a few moments. No doubt she was weighing the pros and cons of hugging a Malfoy. She buried her head in his chest, and he felt his shirt get dampened by her tears. Unknowingly to himself, he lets his composer break, and a few tears of his own mix in her hair.
(*)
The next morning, her eyes are warm again and she's smiling.
The next morning, his eyes are cold and detached and he's sitting at the Slytherin table, his hand on his face as he stares at his breakfast plate in front of him.
He got up before everyone else and walked quickly to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. His robes were thrown off and onto the floor, and his vest was discarded. He ripped his tie off and threw it on his other cloths and he leaned over one of the sinks, tears flowing freely down his face. His hair's already destroyed and his face is getting redder and redder as the minutes tick by.
He knows he's not going to make it to Potions and he doesn't care. He sinks onto the floor and tears keep flowing.
His father would scoff at him. A Malfoy crying is something you're never suppose to see because Malfoys don't cry. They don't weep. They don't get upset. The only time he had ever seen a Malfoy cry was when his mother and father had gotten in a row over something petty and his mother lost her composer. Though his father was a cold, cold man, he loved his wife deeply. He scolded her for crying, but hugged her tightly, before bringing her to a jeweler's and buying her new rings.
He hears someone walk in and gasp, and he knows it isn't Myrtle because she doesn't gasp when she sees him crying. Blinking heavily, he looks up and sees Granger staring at him. She automatically gets on the floor and kneels in front of him, her hand covering her mouth. She looks composed from yesterday, but as she watches him, he sees her eyes become detached.
Another sob chokes through him and he's brought into a hug by her. She's warm and he's cold and he's rude and she's nice. His head's in her shoulder and she's gripping his shirt, hugging him tightly. He's hugging her back and crying worse than before.
Again, he knows what would happen if someone were to walk in.
What feels like hours to him and probably minutes to her, he unlatches himself from her embrace and stands up. He's about to stick out his hand to help her but she's already up, handing him his tie. He puts it on quickly and grabs his robes from the floor and puts them on as well.
Its dark outside, he notes.
She's about to walk out the door and he calls to her quietly, "Thanks…Hermione."
It's the first time he's ever said her first name. He watches her freeze for a moment before he hears her whisper back, "You're welcome…Draco. I'm always here if you need me."
He watches her run off to whatever class she has now. He smiles for the first time in years, and slowly makes his way to the Slytherin common room. He's missed almost a day of classes, so what's the point of going to one more?
Once he enters the common room, he quickly walk to his dorm. He knows he'll have to meet her again someday. The things that his family's putting on him are too much.
He wonders if they could possibly hug without one of them crying.