A/N: Apologies for being MIA for so long! Just didn't really feel any motivation for this story. But now I'm back and I shall venture on!
Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does
Chapter 2
3 months later
Draco ran the usual path through the forest, tears streaming down his face. It had been three months since he had met, whom he considered to be, his best friend in the whole world, Stella. Every day, the two children would meet up and play together in the secluded clearing, rain or shine. Today it was sunny, which opposed Draco's mood. He was running from his house, where he had just received a black eye from his father for accidently dropping several dishes in the kitchen. He had managed to escape while his mother and father shouted at one another till neither of them had any anger left, so they were both too busy to notice him slip out the door.
Draco ran out of the trees into the clearing, pausing only to take great shuddering breaths. He silently cursed his father, for making life for him and his mother so unbearable. That's when he noticed Stella, sitting beside the great oak tree. Today she had balanced on her lap, a very hefty book. Draco could see that there were pictures of different flowers, with small boxes of text beside them. He then noticed Stella holding a vibrant flower she had picked from the ground, comparing it to the illustration in her book. Draco couldn't help but stare at Stella; it seemed as if she breathed life into the wildlife around her, as flowers seemed to bloom wherever she went.
He still wondered if she was magical, they had never talked about magic. He was starting to reconsider the whole 'Pureblood' thing, though he would never admit that. Draco's father had nearly brainwashed Draco from birth to hate all muggles and muggle-borns. Draco couldn't help thinking 'who cares' whenever his father went on about blood purity. It didn't make sense that Stella could be categorised as inferior to the nitwits Crabbe and Goyle. How could someone so wonderful be a Muggle-born? This brought Draco's attention back to Stella as he saw her through his one working eye. The sun reflecting on her little face made Draco's stomach do a back-flip. He may not have known what he was feeling at the time, but this was the moment where Draco Malfoy first fell in love.
Hermione examined the flower in her hand more closely. Today she had brought with her a plant book. She had wanted to see exactly which type of plants grew in this forest, then thinking this would be a great way for her and Ace to bond more. She sniffed the delicate flower, and suddenly let out a sneeze.
"Bless you."
Recognising the voice of her best friend, Hermione looked up, expecting to see his smirking face. But what met her eyes shocked her much more, she gasped aloud. There indeed was her Ace, but she had never seen such a defeated look on his aristocratic features. One eye was completely swollen and purple, while the other was red with tears flowing from it. His nose seemed to have a steady flow of snot coming from it, and his trembling bottom lip showed he was trying and failing desperately to keep a straight face.
"Ace!" she gasped, "Your eye!"
Draco's hand immediately flew to his eye, but it was too late. Hermione was already scurrying towards him with a tissue she had found in her pocket, the book of plants long forgotten. She gently took his hand away from his eye, and he saw her wince at the sight.
"What happened?" she demanded as she began to gently dab at his face.
"I ran into a tree." He replied gruffly.
"No you didn't." she stated. Having spent three months with the boy, Hermione knew now when Draco told even the smallest lie. "Someone hit you." she stated.
Sometimes Hermione's lie-detecting skills scared Draco. Knowing he wasn't going to win this argument, he caved in.
"Yeah," he admitted, "they did."
"Who was it?"
"My father."
Hermione ceased in her dabbing of Draco's face, and stood still to look at him in disbelief. She had never before heard of a parent hitting a child before. This was one thing her own mother and father had never mentioned in their constant talks that fed her curiosity.
How horrible it must be, to be hit by your own mum or dad.
"Why did he hit you?"
"Because I accidently dropped a couple of plates in the kitchen."
"But…that's no reason to just hit somebody!"
"That's what I thought too." Draco said mournfully.
And then, to Draco's surprise, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, and hugged him. Despite spending three whole months together, the two children had never been this intimate. Draco breathed in her smell. Cinnamon and vanilla. As long as he lived, Draco knew he would never forget this scent.
"It's okay," she whispered in his ear, "I'm here for you."
Draco couldn't hold it back anymore. He wrapped his arms around her torso and buried his face in her neck to let out a heart-breaking wail. This time he didn't even try to stop the tears that emerged from his eyes. He simply wailed into Hermione's jumper, letting out all the emotions he had bottled up for the past year. He clung desperately to her, afraid to let go, as she softly crooned in his ear. Hermione paused and very carefully kissed his wounded eye. Suddenly he felt a warm glow heat up his eye, easing the throb to a gentle thrum. Draco felt safe in Hermione's arms. He felt like he never wanted to leave her embrace. Ever.
