Disclaimer: I own nothing.
It didn't take much to bring Hermione to tears, but Draco had really taken the cake that frosty morning.
Hermione sat nibbling at a piece of toast with her potions book open on the table when Ron plopped next to her and started shoveling eggs onto his plate. She had half a mind to take that spoon and shove it in his eye. Suffice it to say, she was still hurt from seeing Lavender throw herself all over Ron, and Ron going along with it all.
"All right, Hermione?" Ron asked with a full mouth, spraying food into her hair.
"No, you abominable troll!" She wanted to reply. She wanted to tell him what an idiot he was. After all, wasn't it he who got jealous after Krum asked her to the Ball in their 4th year? Only to turn around and start dating one of the most transparent witches in Hogwarts?
But she didn't have a chance to, because the moment she opened her mouth, Lavender seemed to materialize right into Ron's lap. She pecked up his neck until her mouth was locked onto his. Nothing short of a crowbar and some magic would be able to pry her off of him. Well, the joke's on her, Hermione thought, Ron's mouth was full of eggs and bacon.
When Lavender showed no sign of caring whether or not her mouth would be filled with Ron's regurgitated breakfast, Hermione got to her feet and stormed out of the Great Hall.
Her throat tightened on her way to Gryffindor Tower. She ducked into the second floor corridor, feeling her eyes burning to release unwanted tears. The nagging reminder that she was about to enter Moaning Myrtle's hotspot was just enough to keep the tears at bay. Hermione just needed a few minutes to compose herself before going to the common room. She would do anything to avoid the penetrating questions Ginny was bound to ask her if she came back with puffy, red eyes.
She opened the door and was met with a head-on collision of blonde hair. She fell to the floor with the weight of the offender atop her petite frame. "Ow…" she managed to groan.
"Watch where you're walking next time!" A familiar voice snapped as the offender stood up. Hermione looked up to see Draco Malfoy brushing his robes. At first her cheek flushed in annoyance until she realized where Malfoy was.
"What were you doing in the girls lavatory?" Hermione inquired, her curiousity getting the better of her. Malfoy frowned.
"Why is it any of your business, Granger?" Malfoy had abandoned his go-to insult of mudblood when she had smacked him in their third year.
Hermione clambored to her feet, bringing her face closer to Malfoy's. Upon closer inspection, she noticed his eyes looked bloodshot and there were dark circles leading one to believe he wasn't getting much sleep or sunlight.
"Always a pleasant moment." Hermione rolled her eyes, all thoughts of Ron and Lavender gone from her mind. "If you'll just move." But Draco made no attempt at doing anything the witch requested.
"Afraid someone will see your pathetic sniveling?" Draco taunted. How did he know, Hermione wanted to know. She narrowed her eyes at him.
Taking a step closer, she spoke in a low voice, "I don't know, Malfoy. But for someone who doesn't want anyone to know his business, you weren't too careful to avoid being caught here. What would people think about Malfoy in the girls lavatory?"
Draco met her challenge with a sneer. He was so close his nose almost touched hers. "A little cocky, aren't we, Granger? But you see, my reputation proceeds me, Slytherin Prince and all." It was true. Malfoy had become something of a royal slut this year. "The real question is what are you doing in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom if it's not to cry over your precious Weasley. Oh wait, he's not yours anymore, is he?"
Hermione's jaw tightened. "If you won't move-" She pushed him out of the way, but he followed her closely, his mouth close to her ear.
"Struck a chord, did I? Poor Granger, always the friend, never the lover." Hermione knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her… and he was. Hermione turned on the tap as the tears threatened to fall.
"Go away." Draco chuckled.
"How does it feel, Granger? You're smart, you should've seen this coming."
Hermione whipped around. "Leave me alone, you snake!" She pushed him towards the door. "How does it feel to be hated?" She pushed him again, tears burning down her cheeks. "You love it, don't you? Because you couldn't possibly know a thing about loving another person!" She collapsed in a heap on the floor, bringing her knees to her chest.
Draco looked on, letting her release her frustration on him. "Granger…" He spoke softly, but she was sobbing too hard. He made for the door, turning back to look at her once more before leaving.
Draco was highly disturbed by what he was feeling. He had wanted nothing more than to turn Granger into the crumpled mess she had become. That is, until he actually witnessed it happening. Now he wanted nothing more than to take it back.
It had been weeks since the incident, and Draco couldn't help but look her way whenever she was near. He looked into her eyes in Potions class while she wrote notes. Those eyes saw things in a way he never would. He watched her tuck loose tendrils of hair behind her ear while she read in the library.
"Draco, I'm talking!" Pansy huffed on one such day, crossing her arms. She moved, standing in front of his line of sight. "What is your fascination with that damn mudblood?"
"Don't call her that." Draco warned. Pansy twisted her face.
"Why not?" She demanded to know. Draco closed the book in front of him. He'd be fooling himself to think he'd get any studying done knowing Granger was just a few rows away from him.
"Because it's an outdated word." He stole another glance in her direction, looking away just in time for her to catch him looking. He turned back to Pansy. "And it's unoriginal. Can't you think of something besides mudblood?"
Pansy's hip dropped and she looked up, opening her mouth several times before saying anything. "Acid pop face? Puking pastille breath?" Draco screwed his face.
"Dieting again?"
"I am positively starving!" Pansy's shoulders slumped. She started a list of complaints regarding her new diet when someone on the ither end of the library called her name. Madam Pince shushed them, but Pansy bid Draco goodbye with a peck on the cheek.
Draco sighed in relief, turning back to Granger's table, only to find she had gone. He got up and walked through the bookcases. He reached the end of the last bookcase in the quietest end of the library, giving up his search.
"Haven't you done enough?" Draco jumped, turning to see a cross-armed Hermione right behind him. She looked more annoyed with him than ever before.
"What're you talking about, Granger?" He drawled, shoving a hand in his pocket.
"Don't. Just don't. I've seen the way you've looked at me. Whatever you're planning-"
"I'm sorry." He blurted out. Hermione's mouth was agape. She slowly closed her mouth and narrowed her eyes at him.
"What?"
There was no recovering now. He looked down and shrugged. "Sorry. For the other day."
"I don't understand."
"Join the club. We could use a VP." He avoided her eyes, which felt strange after weeks of doing nothing but staring into them. "But I mean it."
"You're… you're apologizing. To me?"
Draco stood up straight and looked down on her, feeling his stomach do a flip. His cheeks felt warm as blood rushed to the skin. "Don't get used to it, Granger." He strode past her, wanting nothing more than to escape.
"But… why?" She inquired, slowing his steps to a halt. "Apologizing isn't exactly a Malfoy trait, is it?" She stepped up to him. Draco turned around, his heart hammering in his chest.
"Why? Because- because I… because, damnit!" He swooped down until his lips crushed hers in a bruising kiss. She stiffened, but relaxed against him a second later, her lips barely pressing into his. Draco pulled away to look at the witch he had never thought he'd ever share an intimate moment with.
Her mouth opened and closed, blatantly speechless. Draco smirked.
"Like I said, don't get used to it." He spoke softly before turning on his heel, leaving the library.
A/N: Never thought I'd manage a oneshot, but I think I'll leave this open to the possibility of continuing.