A/N: I'm really sorry to those of you who are waiting for an update. I am in a really angsty mood still but you will be happy to know I have started writing the wedding! :3
Please review this, I don't like the beginning and I don't like the end, or the middle for that matter...
It was hardly a secret to the wizarding world that the Malfoys hated Mudbloods. They hated them with every fibre of their pure existence and most had sworn to the Dark Lord that they would do everything they could to kill every last Muggleborn.
This was to be the future of a certain Slytherin. But all of that changed one fateful day in a seemingly average Potions lesson with everyone's favourite teacher, Professor Snape.
Everyone began to pair up and naturally Weasley and Potter went together, leaving Hermione alone. "Malfoy, work with Miss Granger." Snape called out in a bored tone. Draco grimaced, not yet understanding how this lesson would change his future.
As she came over to his cauldron he scowled at her.
"Listen Granger, I don't like this anymore than you do but I am not in the mood for any of your silly immature little insults so just shut up and chop these."
He regretted those words a few minutes after he said them. It was like slow motion. He heard her gasp and knew that he should ignore it but he couldn't. He turned his head slowly to see a single drop of pure crimson drip to the table. The sound of it echoed through his mind and he ripped a tissue from beneath his robes, wrapping it around her bleeding finger.
Hermione looked at him, stunned that he was helping her, touching a filthy Mudblood but he didn't notice her stare. He was too mesmerised by the ever-growing pool of red before him.
That night in the solitude of his dorm he extracted the tissue carefully from his bag and laid it out before him, delicately unfolding the creases. Something about her blood confused him.
He removed his Prefect badge and used the sharp pin to spear his finger, allowing a tiny drop of his own pure blood to fall onto the tissue and mingle with that of a Mudblood.
The second it touched the tissue, it blended in and was lost. It was at that moment that Draco Malfoy stopped hating Hermione Granger purely because she was a Mudblood. It was at that moment that he realised there was absolutely no difference between their blood at all. It was at that moment that he began to view her as a real person.
Not that he would ever let her know that of course...
As the year continued his feelings towards her changed more and he soon began to loathe ever seeing her blood. But he couldn't change the past and he knew this meant he had to live with the repercussions in the present.
That summer he became a Death Eater, shortly after receiving his first assignment from the Dark Lord. Kill a Mudblood. Many times before the potions lesson that had altered the course of his life Draco had complained to his father about the plight that was Hermione Granger. Thus it came as little surprise when Lucius told him that she must be the Mudblood to perish.
Regret was a feeling unknown to Draco but he felt it that day. He regretted becoming a Death Eater. He regretted being born a Malfoy and he regretted fearing his father so much that he would do practically anything he told him to.
But he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill her and yet he couldn't disobey his father.
He returned to school in September and realised it could not be put off any longer. Something had to be done. He felt the urge to kill her, knew he should want to, knew he should hate her but he didn't. Instead he tried to direct all the hatred he felt at his own weakness towards her and it almost worked. He nearly killed her. But as he began to mutter the second word of the most unforgivable curse known to the Wizarding World, all he could hear in his own mind was the sound of her blood dripping onto the Potions table.
He made a decision that evening to disobey his father. Instead of killing her he bound her and took her to the Malfoy Mausoleum where he kept her for a few days.
Not one word passed his lips when she cried out for her freedom. He merely fed her whatever food he had brought with him and made her drink so that she stayed hydrated and conscious.
When he returned home every evening more and more questions flew at him from his father. Where is her body? Why haven't you killed her yet?
But Draco simply ignored his father and went to his room, extracting the bloody tissue from its hiding place and holding it to give him strength.
But the Dark Lord was restless and came to Draco, telling him he would kill him if he did not bring her body to his lair that night. He began to wonder if blood was worth dying for.
That night he went to the Mausoleum with food and drink for his captive, plus a knife and an empty jar. He walked straight up to her and undid her bounds, holding onto her wrists so that she couldn't fight back. For the first time since he kidnapped her he looked into her eyes, straight into her soul. He allowed himself to be lost for a few minutes, gazing into her orbs before remembering his reason for being there.
Breaking his trance, he extended her arm and removed the knife, using it to make a long deep cut in her arm. Hermione whimpered, her eyes filled with pain, confusion and tears but he wouldn't look into them. He wouldn't let himself get distracted again.
Grabbing the jar, he collected as much blood as he could. When he had finished, he cast a healing spell and fed her in between her sobs. He allowed her to stand and led her out into the night, taking her down to a Muggle bus stop and giving her some money so that she could get home.
Once he had sat her down he turned to leave but her voice stopped him. He twisted around to see her and took in her frail, exhausted frame, immediately feeling a wave of shame wash over him.
"Why?" she demanded, desperately trying to stifle a sob, "Why did you do this, why didn't you just kill me?!"
Draco delved his hand into his pocket and unscrewed the lid of the jar, dipping his fingers into the liquid within. He gazed, mesmerised, at the red glint in the moonlight before turning back to Hermione.
"Because... because I needed to remember why I loved you..." he whispered before leaning in and placing his lips atop hers, gently caressing her cheek and leaving a trail of her own blood across her pale skin.
He withdrew and didn't allow the small twitch at the corner of Hermione's mouth, nor the slight blush, to register. He simply turned around to gaze at the mausoleum, knowing that in a few days he would be lying there.
All because of her blood...