Once again, Draco was alone, sitting completely by himself in his own misery. A broken vanishing cabinet was his only company, or the only one he payed attention to, in a room full of items people had lost or left or hidden. And she was on his mind, as usual. Her existence had become so present in his thoughs that it was as if she never left in the first place, that she was just constantly running through his head. He had liked her from the moment he set eyes on her in first year.
She was the brightest witch of the age. But that couldn't matter. She was a muggle-born, which meant that he would never have the blessing of his father and mother. They didn't care about love. The only thing that meant anything in his family was blood status. Actually, blood status meant everything in his high class family. If she had been a pureblood or he had been a different status, things would have been different. But she wasn't and he wasn't, so they stayed the same.
He soon came out of his imagination and realized that he was no longer giving the cabinet in front of him the attention it required. The wand he had been using to work on it was now being fiddled with in his fingers. A slight watering invaded his eyes, a sniffle erupting from his nose. Blinking it back, he continued to work, putting her out of his mind. Or at least trying to, unsuccessfully.
Hermione strolled down the corridor in a pleasant mood. Or at least, keeping a falsified pleasant mood as her expression. The truth behind the face was sadness and longing. Thoughts of a certain blonde Slytherin boy were creeping into her mind yet again. Desperately, she tried to push them out. She could NOT be thinking of him. Not after everything he had done to her.
But alas, her mind had betrayed her. He had fully infiltrated yet again and most likely wouldn't leave until much later in the day. You would expect her to think of all the trouble he had caused her over the years, but no. She thought of all the times he had smiled and laughed, even at her expense, because his laughter was adorable. His smile could brighten a room. Just the pure presence of him could lift up her entire day.
"No. Hermione stop." a small voice inside her head told her. "You can't think about him like this. He doesn't like you. He never will. You're a muggle-born. You have no chance."
At that moment, he appeared in front of her, seemingly coming out of no where. She put on a brave face, although she was feeling completely weak in the knees and her stomach was flipping and twisting into knots.
"What are you looking at, mudblood?" He regretted the words as soon as they slipped from his lips, but he had to keep up the show.
She barely even had time to make a face before he had walked off and left her alone there. She felt as though she was going to cry. Little did she know, he felt the exact same way.
From a distance, she saw him. He was married now and had a son. A pureblood, magical son who was off to Hogwarts along with her own children. She wanted to speak to him, but she couldn't dare. Even though Voldemort had been gone for nineteen years now, she couldn't speak to him, for fear that he felt the exact same way as he did before. For fear that he still hated her. A hate that never existed in the first place.
He saw her as well. She was with her husband and her children. Her children who would soon be off to Hogwarts with his son. The son he had told to make friends with the Weasleys and the Potters because he didn't want Scorpius to make the same mistakes he had in school. The mistakes he made led him to where he was today. At this point in his life, the only thing he didn't regret was the son he was now trying to fix before a mess even began.
Their eyes caught each other's glance. They stood there for a moment in a silent stare. He was the first to smile, his hand raising in a wave as he did. To his surprise, she smiled and waved in return. But to each other, it seemed like the small smiles just meant "Let bygones be bygones." But to each of them, the smile meant so much more. So much that he would never know. That she would never know. Secrets that they would both keep for years more, and even then, never admit to each other.
This one isn't really as good as some of my other stuff, but I'm still proud of it. Review please?