Summary: Hermione Granger never thought Harry and Ron would leave her behind. She never expected Draco Malfoy was Veela. She never dreamed of how much he could grow or how much she could love him. She could never image all they would have to give up. 7th year AU. Veela!Dramione.
A/N: I know the story starts off angsty, but I'm fairly sure it will eventually disintegrate into mostly fluff with a side of plot-line. It takes place during their 7th year at Hogwarts; Harry and Ron left to fight Voldemort and left Hermione. Assume that the Muggleborn Registration Commission hasn't banned her from attending Hogwarts, and that nobody is openly hunting Hermione down for being muggleborn (although there are definitely still some bigoted jerks to hate on). Anyway, all rights go to JKR. Please review :)
Chapter 1
Unbeknownst to the petite brunette casually flitting through the dusty aisles of spell books, a pair of cold grey eyes trailed after her, silently observing her motions as she tottered on tip-toes to reach a particularly thick tome from the upper shelf. After several small hops, Hermione Granger, still unable to grasp the book, sighed and continued down the row, humming softly to herself as she made her way to her favourite corner of the Hogwarts library. As Hermione sunk into the worn leather chair, settling down to read the first of many novels in her sizeable stack, her follower ducked out of sight, unwilling to let himself be seen in the presence of such unfit company and certainly not in such a degrading capacity.
Draco Malfoy pinched together his thin, aristocratic features, slowly drew in a deep breath, and cast one last reluctant glance at the enigma that was Mudblood Granger. He sulked back to the gloomy Slytherin common room, muttering to himself in frustration. Three times. Three. This was the third time this week that Draco had felt an irrepressible urge to seek her out, to watch her from afar as she conducted utterly mundane tasks. He was as unnerved by the feeling as Granger herself would be if she were aware of this sudden, uncharacteristic desire.
Logically, Draco knew that he hated the Mudblood. Her filthy muggle bloodline alone was enough to make her entirely undeserving, but it was the pathetic way Potter and Weaselby had hung off of her that particularly irked him. The two thick, self-righteous Gryffindors doted on the Granger girl like sickeningly loyal puppies, and seemed incapable of thinking autonomously without her input. She was the singular brain behind nearly all of Potter's heroic endeavours, and for that Draco hated Hermione Granger with a passion. Draco felt a jolt of satisfaction when he considered them leaving without her, probably off somewhere on a noble quest to bring down the Dark Lord. Even for Gryffindors, he mused, abandoning your best friend of six years was thoughtless and cruel; in fact, he had noticed that the Mudblood was throwing herself into her work even more than usual this year, probably to distract herself from the betrayal of her idiotic friends.
Yet, Draco also felt a strange sense of admiration for Granger. He begrudgingly admitted that she was, for a Mudblood, quite intelligent. She was the top of the class in every subject except perhaps Potions, and even that was a result of Snape's blatant favouritism, not that Draco was complaining on that front. Additionally, although he certainly loathed her idiotic sense of Gryffindor bravery, he often found himself remembering the incident from third year where she'd boldly and unapologetically punched him for mocking the bloody oaf of a groundskeeper. Admittedly, he was being a prat, but he was still amazed at her audacity. She, a filthy little Mudblood, dared to lay a hand on the noble heir to the Malfoy fortune. Unbelievable.
Most alarmingly, Draco found himself with a newfound interest in Granger's appearance. Since the beginning of this term, Draco's 7th and final year at Hogwarts, he had begun to notice small things about the Mudblood that he had never picked up before. Her hair was no longer a tangled, frizzy rat's nest accentuated with an unfortunate set of bangs; instead, the plump curls gleamed an appealing shade of copper in the candlelight. Her eyes were not, in fact, a plain mud brown; Draco now saw they were an alluring shade of amber. The oversized teeth he'd once teased now actually looked quite pleasant when tied up into one of her warm smiles. For Merlin's sake, he'd even noticed her smell. Her smell.
This was, Draco thought to himself, utterly ridiculous. Suddenly frustrated at his appalling attraction to the disgusting animal, he shoved a stack of parchment and books from his desk, sending the items clattering to the cold flagstone floor of his dormitory. He stared at the ground for a minute, silently watching rivulets of spilt ink run through the cracks in the tiles. She smelled of old books and magnolia.
...
That night, after an unremarkable dinner, Draco arose from his normal seat near the end of the table, feeling an odd need to pace the castle. Vincent and Greg both gave him questioning glances. Draco shot them a solemn glare in return and his cronies dutifully looked away. Slipping through the doors of the Great Hall, Draco began to absentmindedly wander the corridors, his mind drifting from the recent changes in the Hogwarts staff to his father's last letter.
I must have lost track of time, Draco mused hours later as he sat perched atop the Astronomy Tower, glancing up at the stars in the darkening sky. The moon was just visible over the treetops, a silver sickle low in the sky. Groaning as he pushed himself off the floor, Draco started down the spiral staircase only to be met face to face with the Head Girl, Hermione Granger herself.
Reflexively, he reached out to her shoulder to steady her as she bumped into him. Within a couple seconds, Hermione met his eyes, giving him a look that very clearly insisted he remove said hand promptly. Draco did, feeling a strange sense of reluctance, then immediately chastising himself for touching the Mudblood in the first place.
"What are you doing here after curfew, Malfoy?" she demanded in her usual authoritative tone. Draco clenched his fist tightly, feeling his nails dig slightly into his skin.
"Nothing that concerns you, Mudblood. I was just on my way back to my common room," he replied stiffly. Granger visibly flinched at his language; Draco felt an uncharacteristic tinge of regret. What the hell was wrong with him? Pity for Granger? The stress of the war, Draco decided, must be getting to his head.
"20 points from Slytherin for being out of bed after hours and another 10 for speaking to the Head Girl like that. Now get back to the dungeons," Granger snapped irritably, turning around and beginning to walk away.
"Not so fast, bitch," Draco called from behind her, striding forward and grasping her thin shoulder so tightly she was sure she'd have a bruise tomorrow. "What would the Carrows think of a mudblood like you docking points from Lucius Malfoy's only son and heir? I don't think they'd be happy, see? They might decide to take away your position entirely if they knew you were abusing it like this," Draco smirked.
"You know bloody well that I'm well within my rights as Head Girl to take those points, Malfoy," she shot back, irate.
"I do know that," he smiled back. "But that's not how things work anymore, Granger; no one here is left to save the pathetic little Mudblood. So give me back the damn points and maybe then I'll let you go on your way," Draco snarled, squeezing her shoulder even harder until he was sure the tips of his nails would leave marks on her pale skin.
"I'm not giving them back," she snapped bravely. "What's the point of being Head Girl if I can't enforce the rules? If the Carrows take away my position, so be it. But I refuse to bend the rules for you, Malfoy."
"Hmm, brave little Gryffindor. Don't you know that you'll never beat a snake with something as petty as courage? Remember, I can do more than just lose you your position; I'm sure the Carrows would love some suggestions on which students need disciplined. In fact, I for one believe that Weaselette and Longbottom are negative influences on Gryffindor House. Surely our lovely new staff could make sure they're punished accordingly."
"You're despicable, Malfoy," Granger growled. "Fine, take the damn points; just don't hurt my friends." A moment passed and neither she nor Draco moved. "Well, you got what you wanted; aren't you going back?" Granger demanded.
"You still haven't learned your lesson, Granger," Draco whispered harshly.
"My lesson?" she asked, visibly outraged.
"Yes, Mudblood. Someone needs to teach you not to mouth off to your superiors."
"What are you going to do? Take points from my house? You dropped your prefect duties last year, Malfoy-"
Before she could continue berating him, Draco acted without thinking, harshly pushing the Head Girl against the wall of the balcony. Granger froze in fear as he angrily pressed his lips to her mouth, nipping at the bottom corner until he drew blood. Hermione tried shoving him away to no avail; the boy was nearly a foot taller than she and certainly much stronger.
Draco was in ecstasy. Even as Granger fought against him, he found himself pressing closer to her, knotting his hands tightly into her thick, curly hair as his lips descended down her neck. He could feel his heart racing in tandem with the soft pulse of her carotid artery. The supple planes of her body yielded to his touch in a way Draco could only describe as perfection.
Hermione, for her part, was not as enthused. She refused to open her lips to call out while he was kissing her, knowing he would only take that as an invitation. Instead, she waited until he shifted his attention to her neck to scream. And scream she did.
"Malfoy, get the fuck off of me!" she yelled, trying to knee him in a rather uncomfortable location. Draco managed to dodge the manoeuvre, but felt a surge of disappointment as Granger squirmed away.
"What the hell was that?" she demanded, poised to run if Draco made another move towards her. He had no fucking clue what had happened either. Draco had only been planning to hex her; he never meant to kiss the Mudblood. Deny it, his gut instinct told him. Deny, deny, deny.
"I don't know, Granger. You tell me; it's not my fault you attacked me, you filthy little Mudblood." Hermione gaped at him for a minute.
"What are you talking about, you slimy, lying bastard? Clearly you just kissed me; I obviously didn't want it."
"Granger, you're delusional."
"Merlin, there is no point in even arguing with you, is there? I'm sure you'll just keep denying it. Whatever, I'm going back to my dorm. Just don't bother me again, Malfoy," she growled, all but running back to Gryffindor Tower. Draco stared at her back as she retreated, his mind reeling.