Compatible Opposites

Disclaimer: The clock on the mantelpiece could tick till the end of time, but even then, the wonderful world of Harry Potter still wouldn't belong to me.

Summary: Light and Dark. Right and Wrong. Compatible Opposites. A series of seemingly unfortunate events in Draco and Hermione's lives, starting from their 1st year to the War. Drabble for Valentine's Day. Best wishes to the couples reading this! (If there are any at all…)

First Year

Hermione was pretty sure that her shoes were going to be thoroughly worn before she even got to Hogwarts. Huffing in frustration and cursing her own carelessness, she gave her heavy trunk another kick in the desperate hope that it would shift another few inches, just enough to wriggle it lose. It did not.

"Excuse me."

Hermione looked up at to find a tall boy with white-blond hair and aristocratic features, and her cheeks flushed a bright pink as she thought of the annoyance and irritation she was causing by getting her trunk stuck in the hallway. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, a slight pleading tone in her voice. "I'll get out of your way as soon as possible." She struggled a few more moments with the handle of the trunk, but it refused to budge.

"As a matter of fact, I was going to offer you my assistance." The blond boy directed a charming smile at Hermione, which would have sent her swooning if she had been one of her silly simpering ex-classmates. Then, with a slight tilt of the blonde's head, another two brawny, hulking boys stepped out from behind him and began pushing her trunk in unison. Miraculously, the stubborn thing actually moved.

"Thank you," Hermione replied with a somewhat awed look on her face, and he gave a courteous nod in return. With the help of her newly-purchased wand – why hadn't I used that to free my trunk earlier? – Hermione floated her trunk down the hallway in search of a suitable compartment to spend the rest of the train ride in.

He was such a gentleman, Hermione thought as she peered through multiple panes of glass for an empty seat. Like the ones back in the olden days, when men bowed and helped pull chairs out and rescued damsels in distress.

Her musings – or rather, daydreams – were soon interrupted by a chubby, buck-toothed boy who was on a quest for a toad named Trevor.

Third Year

"Look at him blubber!"

Hermione whirled around to see the bane of her existence standing behind the castle doors like the coward he was. That familiar smirk of his was present as he watched Hagrid hurry to his cabin, a handkerchief large enough to be a tablecloth held to his red nose.

"Have you ever seen anything quite as pathetic?" Malfoy continued with a sneer, and his cronies by his side nodded vigorously in agreement. "And he's supposed to be our teacher! What is he doing, weeping over the death of some crossbred bird?"

At Malfoy's hateful words and dagger-like eyes, the sorrow and pity previously in Hermione's system quickly transformed to boiling hot anger. Barely consciously of her surroundings, she lurched forward, hand outstretched as she moved towards Malfoy, an inward determination clear in the set of her jaw. I've been waiting forever to do this…

As Hermione brought her palm down on the pale cheek of Draco Malfoy, a random image suddenly sprang into her mind; one of Pansy Parkinson hanging off Malfoy's arm in the Great Hall at breakfast, throwing smug smiles to anyone who would pay attention to her. A throb of emotion – Distaste? Hatred? She didn't know – resurfaced at the memory. But it doesn't matter what I feel, Hermione told herself. All that's important is that Malfoy gets what he has coming to him.

Her hand connected, and a loud smack echoed in the Entrance Hall. Her hand was sore and stung with all the force she had summoned to slap Malfoy, but it was worth it, to see the dumbstruck look on all of their faces.

Hermione directed her steely, unwavering stare back to the Slytherin. "Don't you dare call Hagrid pathetic, Malfoy," she whispered threateningly. "Or else…" She reached for her faithful wand, and Malfoy visibly flinched at the motion. "You have me to answer to."

With one last death glare, she stalked off, Harry and Ron trailing in her wake. Draco Malfoy, a gentleman? As if!

Fourth Year

"Granger sure cleans up well, doesn't she?" Blaise Zabini murmured quietly to Draco. They were standing a distance away from the throng in a shadowed alcove, observing the rest of the students as a king observes his subjects. "I think she'd make a great toy, had she been a half-blood."

Draco gave a neutral grunt; it was safest to neither agree nor disagree. However, he did have to admit Zabini's statement was indeed true; Granger did clean up well. Her normally bushy, out-of-control hair now looked as smooth as silk; her skin seemed creamier and seemed to glow; her robes were a periwinkle blue, and they showed off the finer points of her figure attractively without making her look like a prostitute – unlike a certain female Slytherin. Draco wrinkled his nose slightly and took a large gulp of Firewhiskey to rid himself of the memory of Pansy's high-pitched whining.

Sighing, he focused once more on Granger, who was now laughing and talking delightedly with her dance partner, Krum. The so-called "perfect gentleman". Yeah, right. That's a whole load of crap. Even Skeeter would drop dead if she knew what I know about Krum's real background.

Draco refocused on his quarry, and his grip on his drinking glass tightened as Krum's lips came dangerously close to Granger's. Fuck you, bastard! Get the hell away from her!

It was then that Draco knew he would need a lot of Firewhiskey to get through the night.

Sixth Year

It was past midnight. The sky was a deep, inky blue, the moon was as round as a pearl, and the stars winked down at the mortals from their high perch. It was a peaceful night, but one certain resident of Hogwarts was anything but at peace.

He stood in a bathroom on the second floor, with only his desperate, haunted thoughts to keep him company. I have to repair the cabinet – I must! But I can't do it… I can't. My mother, father – they need me. Their lives depend on me. If I can't do it, they die. If only I could go to someone, anyone at all… No! The Dark Lord has made my instructions clear. He would know that I have disobeyed him, and he would kill… And we will all die.

Draco Malfoy buried his face in his hands, tears streaming down as he thought of the situation he was trapped in. Albus Dumbledore… Though the old fool was infuriating and favoured Potter too much, Draco had nothing against the man that would warrant a murder. But surely it is better to kill Dumbledore? If I don't do so, then my whole family would be dead. More lives will be saved this way. Dumbledore will be dying for the greater good. His reasoning made perfect sense in his head, but when it came to actually carrying the deed out… Could he do it?

Just then, a creak sounded outside the bathroom door, and Draco, though shaken, quickly gathered himself and ducked into a toilet stall. No one must know about his visits to the bathroom. Thankfully, he managed to lock and bolt the door just before the intruder entered.

Barely breathing, Draco carefully placed his eye to the small crack between the door and the walls of the stall. Through it, he could see a petite female, one with shapely curves. His eyes – or to be more accurate, eye – moved upwards, and took in a head of curly brown hair. Granger?

But it couldn't be Granger. This girl was sniffling and blowing her nose, and he could also hear tiny sobs and hiccups. Granger would never cry like this. She was the perfect Golden Gryffindor Girl, the one who had everything going for her and no worries at all. It couldn't be her. It'll be just some Hufflepuff mourning over the loss of her boyfriend or something. She'll be gone soon –

"You can come out, whoever you are. I know you're there," the girl called out, her voice slightly wavering. "I can see your shoes under the door." There was no doubt about whom the voice belonged to. Despite his assumptions, it was Granger.

"Well? Come on out. It couldn't be that nice being holed up in a toilet stall, could it?"

Draco heaved a sigh. There was no other choice but to come out, have Granger see his red-rimmed eyes and come to the natural conclusion. That he had been crying. The news would be all over the school by tomorrow morning. He could already hear the whispered gossip, the speculation –

"I'll give you three seconds to come out or I'll blow the door off its hinges, you hear me?" Granger's voice was now steady and composed. "Three – Two – One –"

The door swung open, and Draco stepped out of the darkness into the light.

As expected, Granger's face first registered shock as she took in her adversary's disheveled appearance. Mere moments later, she was standing in front of him, wand pressed against his neck. Her face was only an inch away, and Draco could feel Granger's harsh breaths on his face. He could smell fresh spearmint.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing here?" She hissed, the tip of her wand digging into his windpipe. Even in this situation, Draco was taken aback by the sight of the Gryffindor's eyes – puffy and swollen, yet the alertness in her sharp chocolate brown eyes was ever present.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he shot another question of his own at Granger. "What in the name of Salazar are you doing here?"

Her eyes narrowed; she was definitely not amused. "Don't play games with me, Malfoy. I am so not in the mood for this." For a second, her tough façade melted away and Draco found himself looking at a completely vulnerable girl. Granger's lip trembled, her wand hand started to shake, and tears sprang to her eyes; but this side of her only lasted for five seconds at most before her defenses went up once more.

"So, Malfoy," Granger replaced her wand at his throat. "Why are you here?"

Draco raised an eyebrow despite the increased difficulty in breathing. "The same reason why you're here, I suppose," he said quietly. And for once, he was surprised to notice that his voice was completely sincere. Even Granger seemed to have noticed the lack of a mocking tone; her stance was instantly wary.

"So," she scrutinized him closely, "If you're here for the same reasons that I am… I assume you'll keep this quiet?"

Draco looked directly into her eyes. "If you'll return the favour… Then yes."

Granger stared at him a bit longer before withdrawing her wand. "I bid you a good night, Malfoy." She strode out of the bathroom without a backward glance.

Draco took several deep breaths, massaging his throat as he did so. Guess Granger's stronger than she looks, he noted. And she's actually not as perfect as she seems. Nothing is as it seems.

Suddenly he knew what to do.

He needed to prepare himself for a meeting with the Headmaster.

Seventh Year (Second Wizarding War)

"What is this?" Lucius drawled as he rose from his armchair, staring at three silhouettes standing by the gloomy entrance. Draco tried to follow his father's glance, but his eyes were not accustomed to the darkness. He squinted, trying to make out the vaguely familiar figures. All he could be certain of was that there was a girl…

"They say they've got Potter. Draco, come here," Narcissa's voice rang out. To the casual observer, she would appear cold, indifferent, but Draco knew better. He knew his mother had lost hope in the outcome of the war; for how could the Light win when their Saviour was captured and held in the lair of the Dark?

Do not lose hope, he wanted to tell Narcissa as he passed her to reach the silhouettes. All is not lost – not yet.

He reached the trio, and now he knew who they were – Potter, Weasley, and Granger. The Defenders of the Light.

He halted, eyes trained on the girl. No, young woman, he corrected himself. We are no longer teenagers. Not anymore.

"Well, boy?" Greyback, the werewolf, growled impatiently as he waited for Draco's verdict. "Is he Potter or not?"

He shifted his focus to Potter. His face was blotchy, pink, and unnaturally stretched; almost everything that made Potter himself had been distorted. Even his trademark messy hair had been lengthened; now his emerald green eyes were the only thing that gave away his identity.

"Well, Draco?" Lucius asked anxiously. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

Draco could feel the increasing conflict taking place inside his mind. Right or wrong… Which should I choose? To do the morally correct thing… Or to hand Potter to the Dark Lord and secure a safe position for my family?

He chose the way of a coward. "I can't be sure."

"Look more carefully, son. If it is Potter, we would be honored –" His father's voice became louder, more excited.

"Now, we wouldn't be forgetting…" Greyback's voice became distant as Granger's body language caught Draco's attention. Please, her eyes begged. Help us –

" – Draco! Do you think this is Potter's scar?" Lucius broke into his mental communication. Draco was forced to step closer to Potter. A mantra started up in his head. Light or Dark? Right or wrong? Light or Dark? Right or wrong?

The tempo of the chant speeded up, crowding his mind until it was the only thing he could concentrate on. I can't think properly! I can't decide!

Yet the continuous flow refused to let up. Light or Dark? Right or wrong? Light or Dark? Right or wrong? It was forcing him to choose.

Draco did his best. "I don't know."

And he walked away, knowing he had done what Granger wanted.

Knowing he had chosen the right thing.

Knowing he had chose the Light.

A/N: HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Okay, people, I hope you all like this! This story was actually quite rushed, since I had only two nights to type it before Valentine's Day... But yeah, this was the best I could do on such short notice.

However, I must say, I'm quite proud of some of the scenes in this story, like the ones set in Hermione's and Draco's sixth and seventh year. Also, I have a question for you guys out there :

WHICH SCENE DO YOU LIKE THE BEST, PERSONALLY?

Knowing my readers' opinions are often a great help in improving my writing technique... Or at least that's what my English teacher said. Anyway, tell me your opinion in a nice, lovely REVIEW! You can't imagine how just one positive review brightens up my day!

Cheers,

Bianca tabbycat :D

P.S. For the readers of "Pickup Lines", I am sooooooo sorry! I've got this gigantic writer's block for the next chapter 'cause I have no idea how to describe Hermione's dress. ARGH! So if you want to give me a helping hand… P.M. me and I'll spin out the chapter ASAP... Promise! :)