A/N: I'm glad that I got this Dramione songfic drabble thing into my head. I really like writing to songs and poems; it's not as easy as it looks.
This is to Anberlin's cover of The Cure's "Love Song." I do not own Harry Potter.
They rarely if ever sat next to each other on purpose in Potions, but sometimes Draco Malfoy would move as close to Hermione Granger as his Slytherin group would allow. Since he was the Prince of Slytherin, in a fashion, they liked having him in the middle. It hurt his chances that Potter and Weasley wanted her in the middle to cheat off her. Or sniff her hair, he thought; she always smelled so damn good. If he could, he would walk by and breathe deeply. Sandalwood and vanilla, he thought. His mother wore something similar. Women.
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am home again
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am whole again
"What an absolute arse," Hermione sniffed, looking at the Slytherins at the next table. She wasn't sure what Draco was doing, but it was apparently crude and involved several fingers; even Ron, who detested Malfoy, snorted in appreciation.
Draco looked over Nott's head to see Hermione scribbling, her notes page half a foot long. It wasn't as if she'd never called him an arse or something similar before. It was just that he seemed to be more asinine around her than around anyone else, and he couldn't help it.
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am young again
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am fun again
That day at lunch, Pansy crawled into his lap and whispered unspeakably nasty things she'd love to do to him into his ear. He agreed, of course, as most red blooded males do, but his tone never wavered above acquiescence and his eyes never left the Gryffindor table. Draco thought it was sad that when he left Pansy every time, he sort of, maybe, wished her hair was a lighter shade of brown.
However far away
I will always love you
However long I stay
I will always love you
Whatever words I say
I will always love you
I will always love you
"Granger! Get your filthy hands out of the sink so I can wash them," Draco sneered the next week in Potions. Both of their hands were covered in shredded mandrake leaves, bottlefly wings and sunfish scales from the most recent, arduous potion Snape had set. Hermione flushed, but continued washing her hands under the stone gargoyle. Draco clenched his fists, not out of anger towards her, but because he couldn't apologize for what he had just said. He was Draco Malfoy; she'd never believe him.
She stalked away, her heavy book bag throwing her off-kilter, but he didn't care; it was all the more endearing. As he finally put his hands under the water, he wished it would be boiling hot, to eat away a bit of the shame he felt.
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am free again
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am clean again
It was nighttime, dreamtime. Draco lay in his four-poster, surrounded by thick green curtains. His blankets warmed him. He had friends and family who loved him. His grades were top notch and he hardly tried. Yet every time he looked at Granger, a girl hardly worth looking at, he felt like he was at the far end of a telescope, and she was bigger and better than anything he'd ever seen. She was too intelligent, too good, too brave. He pounded his pillow in frustration. Damnit if he didn't have a crush on the Mudblood.
However far away
I will always love you
However long I stay
I will always love you
Whatever words I say
I will always love you
I will always love you
