I am thinking it's a sign
That the freckles in our eyes
Are mirror images and when we kiss
They're perfectly aligned
The first time Draco Malfoy had ever bothered to actually look into Hermione Granger's eyes was in his third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They had been locked in each other's gaze, staring each other down, and then she had slapped him and shouted something spiteful. It had lasted no longer than two minutes, but somehow the incident had been burned onto his brain.
It was her eyes. They were so warm and hazel and passionate, he simply couldn't resist them. He found himself making excuses to make eye contact with her, pulling the image of her eyes up to the forefront of his mind at random times, and generally just disgusting himself with his obsession with her eyes.
His one consolation was that, while she may have nice eyes, he wasn't in love with her.
********
And I have to speculate
That God himself did make us
Into corresponding shapes
Like puzzle pieces from the clay
Once during their fifth year, Hermione had tripped during Potions class. She had been scurrying around, asking to borrow someone's silver knife, when she had stepped on the front of her own robes and gone flying.
She crashed into the Slytherins' table, sending cauldrons, potions and ingredients flying everywhere. She then proceeded to slide across the rough wooden surface of the table on which the Slytherins had been preparing their potions and into the lap of Draco Malfoy.
Draco was not, by any means, upset about this. Sure, he acted as if he was. He called her the obligatory "mudblood," mockingly asked her if all Muggles were rubbish at walking, or what it just her, but he hadn't meant any of it. In fact, he had been mocking her with the intention of paralyzing her with shock.
He didn't want her to leave his lap, you see.
********
And true it may seem like a stretch
But it's thoughts like this that catch
My troubled head when you're away
When I am missing you to death
Draco was quite bored. He'd only been home a week for summer vacation, and he already wanted to go back to school. He missed his friends, he missed the excitement, and he missed Hermione (not that he would ever admit it).
Sometimes, though he would never voice these thoughts, Draco would spend his time thinking about her. He would just lie back on his bed, or in a chair, and wonder what she was doing. Most of the time this meant him imagining her reading, like she did at the library at Hogwarts. She would carefully select a dusty old volume from the shelf, then carefully place it on the table, and hunch over it and be content for hours. Once in awhile she would bite her lip in the most adorable fashion because she didn't understand something, and she would hurry off to find another book which would clarify, and then she would beam because she'd learned something.
Draco decided that, if he were ever to marry, they would have to look cute while biting their lip. It would be a requirement.
********
When you are out there on the road
For several weeks of shows
And when you scan the radio
I hope this song will guide you home
Draco had found out Hermione's favorite song. For whatever reason, Chance had smiled upon him and he'd overheard Hermione and the Weasley girl doing some sort of quiz from Witch Weekly, a quiz to determine how good of friends they were. One of the questions had been concerning the nature of that participants' musical tastes, and as Draco hadn't exactly been rushing to get away from Hermione, he had overheard her answer.
"You like some song by some Muggle band, right, Hermione?" the Weasley girl had asked, doodling on the cover of the magazine.
"Not a band, just an individual artist," Hermione had responded. "Her name is Kate Walsh."
"Right," the young Weasley said. "It's something like 'Your Tune," right?"
"'Your Song,' actually." And there it was; Draco knew her favorite song. Now it was time for him to put the plan he had been concocting recently into action.
He knew, due to some well- planned eavesdropping, Hermione's favorite radio channel. At first he had been confused to learn that Muggles, too, had radios, but some well- phrased questions directed to Hogwarts' Muggle Studies professor had cleared everything up. He knew exactly what to do.
Hermione was lying on her bed sometime during July when it happened. She'd been listening to her favorite radio station and reading when her favorite song began to play. At first she was very shocked, as it wasn't very well known, but she soon got over the shock and began singing along. It was a beautiful tune, and she couldn't wait to hear the message which followed it. The station played only requests, so with every song came a message from the person who requested it. Songs like these, romantic songs, always came with the sweetest messages.
"That was from an anonymous caller," the radio announcer said. "To my lion girl: We'll be together soon, and it'll be magic." Hermione smiled to herself, thinking about how sweet it was.
The exact same thing happened ten times that summer.
********
They will see us waving from such great heights
Come down now, they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away
Come down now but we'll stay
Draco didn't know how he had done it, but he was hugging Hermione Granger. Normally he would have been nonplussed to be hugging a girl, he'd done much more than that with quite a few of them. That being said, none of the others had been the girl he was holding at that moment, so he wasn't entirely shocked to find that he was loving it.
She pulled away all too soon.
"I love you, Hermione," he said softly, and she giggled.
"I never would have taken you for a romantic."
"Yeah, well, I'm not. Only when it comes to you."
"Is that so?" she asked, leaning forward to kiss him. Draco smiled exultantly and met her lips with his.
When Draco woke up, he was not sad, but not exactly happy, either. It had been a good dream.
********
I've tried my best to leave
This all on your machine
But the persistent beat
It sounded thin upon listening
Quite a few things had changed in the past few years. Firstly, the Dark Lord was gone forever. Secondly, Ron Weasley was gone forever. Thirdly, Harry didn't hate Draco, as Draco had helped him identify Death Eaters after the war. Lastly, Hermione and Draco had become good friends, though she still had no idea of the extent of his feelings for her.
She was in the bath when the phone rang and, too lazy to get it, she allowed it to go through to the answering machine. Although there were many more convenient ways of communication now that she was a fully- qualified witch, Hermione enjoyed having Muggle technology around so she could contact her parents easily.
"You've reached Hermione Granger, but I'm not here right now, sorry. Leave a message at the beep!" she heard herself chirp, followed by a prolonged beeeeep.
"Hermione? You there? It's me." Hermione was instantly worried, as Draco never called her unless it was important, and he sounded distinctly flustered. "Hermione, I'm lost in Muggle London. I have no idea where I am. There's a lot of people, and some birds, and a giant wheel that's up in the air and people get on it and it turns..." he trailed off, clearly too scared to explain further. The machine, having nearly reached it's maximum recording time, began beeping fervently. "Is there any way to shut this thing up?" Draco asked. "Shut up. Silencio. Quiet." Hermione decided to spare him, leaping out of her bath and grabbing the phone.
"Is there a river there?"
"Yeah."
"Alright, I'll be down in a minute." Hermione hung up the phone and shook her head indulgently, preparing to Apparate to a safe place she knew of near the London Eye. Draco was so different, and kind. He was now one of the most loving people she knew, and she loved him for it.
********
And that frankly will not fly
You'll hear the shrillest highs
And lowest lows with the windows down
When this is guiding you home
Hermione had had a bad week. Her new job had turned out to be a fiasco, she'd ripped her favorite robe, and Crookshanks was missing. She needed some Draco time, which explained why she was standing on his doorstep at two- thirty in the morning clad only in pajamas and a housecoat holding Chinese food for two.
"Can I come in?" she asked an exhausted- looking Draco, who had just opened the door. He gestured soundlessly and Hermione walked in, kicking off her slippers. Putting the Chinese food on a counter she pulled plates and cutlery for two out of his cupboards and began loading the plates with food. "Distract me," she pleaded, handing him a plate.
Draco shuffled from the kitchen to the sitting room, where he turned on the small TV Hermione ad bought him during her "you should try living like a Muggle, I think you'll find it quite refreshing and educational" phase.
The two watched an old black- and- white movie in silence, neither feeling the need to break it. Their silences were no longer awkward, but now comfortable. Hermione found that they made her almost as happy as talking with Draco.
Draco gathered their plates and utensils once they finished and headed into the kitchen with the intention of washing them. Hermione remained where she was on the couch, although she thanked him as he collected her things. Turning the warm water on and humming idly, Draco did not hear Hermione enter the kitchen to get a glass of water. He did, however, hear her gasp when she recognized the tune he was humming.
"How do you know Kate Walsh?" she demanded, looking confused but not unhappy. "She's a Muggle artist!" Draco merely shrugged. "That's my favorite song ever," Hermione continued, "it's so beautiful. I remember this one summer I heard it like ten times on my favorite radio station, all with these really sweet messages to someone's "lion girl."" Draco suddenly blushed a very deep red, instantly arousing Hermione's curiosity.
"Why are you so red?" she asked, walking forwards. "What's there to be embarrassed about?" Draco muttered something indistinguishable, and Hermione pressed on. "Why are you blushing?"
"Lion girl" Draco said quickly. "I thought you'd see the connection. Lions, Gryffindor, magic." He quickly stopped talking and resumed washing the dishes as if he'd never said anything. He hadn't meant to tell her that, but he was so tired that his defenses were down and it had just sort of slipped out. He really hoped she didn't hate him for it.
He was very surprised when Hermione spun him around and kissed him.
********
They will see us waving from such great heights
Come down now, they'll say
But everything looks perfect from far away
Come down now but we'll stay
"Did you sleep well?" Draco asked as Hermione walked into the kitchen, her hair messy from sleep.
"Yeah, really well, thanks," she assured him, smiling. Even after three years of marriage he never tired of her smile, and he doubted very much that he ever would.
"You look beautiful," he told her, placing a cup of tea on the table for her.
"You're a liar," she teased, sitting down at the table, "but thanks." The two grinned at each other, fingers intertwined, drinking their tea as the looked outside the window, occasionally stealing glances at each other.
Both felt that the world looked perfect from their kitchen window.