"Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies."

—Tom Marvolo Riddle

The sad truth about reality was that it always came with reminders. No matter how hard one tried to run away from the events of the past, somehow, all actions managed to bite us back in the ass in the form of consequences that we had ignored. Similarly, it was no surprise when Draco Malfoy spun her around, the cold skin of his hand coming into direct contact with her hot skin.

It was only then when Hermione's eyes fell on his hand that he realized what he had done, realized that he had touched someone like her, touched her.

Because after all, blood prejudice was still the most important thing to Draco Lucius Malfoy, the war hadn't changed him at all, after all. He was still the same cold bastard she had punched in their third year.

You could see it in his eyes, he wanted to scream that bloody insult at her, you could see the pain he wanted her to feel by hurling the same insult at her in that one moment which had ruined her life.

Mudblood, mudblood, mudblood.

As quickly as it had happened, it vanished, the moment was gone when he retreated back, the silver storm in his eyes in a an uproar and ready to unleash. As if calculating his actions, he took a steady step in her direction, careful to keep it not too close yet, intimidating and fearful. Hermione was on the brink of losing her sanity as she gazed into his eyes, they had the strange power to lure you right into them and cage you, Hermione noted dully.

Then, ever so slowly, like a faint whisper, she heard it for herself, "You mudblood." She wanted to believe that she was stronger than she was the first time he had called her that but truth was, she had never quite gotten over it the first time. Each night in their second year, she had cried herself to sleep thinking that she was inferior, as the crying finally dulled in the next few years, it never actually went away, that's what trauma did to you, it made a permanent house in your heart and played games on you till it satisfied its sickening thirst to torture you.

Torture you just for the day.

The sound of his teeth clattering brought Hermione back from her flashbacks of Bellatrix torturing her, carving the insult into the skin of her arm permanently. Hermione lifted her gaze, "Like you're any better, traitor." She spat with matching wit and venom in her voice. Her cool mask falling off in an instant. This seemed to take Draco by surprise, or so said the slight widening of his silver eyes. In an instant, he was dragged to the past where he had been forced to do what he had done.

She's just trying to provoke you, she doesn't have the faintest clue of what you had to endure. You didn't have a choice. He tells himself reassuringly.

But there is also a voice in the back of his mind screaming 'Liar, you are a coward.'

He doesn't let his facade fall, something he was best known for. "Why did I feel the urge to—" He couldn't even get the words out of his mouth, it was that pathetic.

"Cat got your tongue, Malfoy?" Hermione smirked knowingly at him, though still hurt, she was a warrior, she was brave, she was a Gryffindor. "Can't even say it out loud? Huh? Can't say that you kissed—" She took the liberty to devour the satisfaction when his face twisted in disgust. "A mudblood?"

"Don't change the subject, tell me how did this happen!" Draco's voice was booming in the dim-lit corridor, her heart skipped a beat at the shiver that went down her spine because of it.

"Why did this happen? I would never kiss someone like you in my right mind, Merlin, I would never kiss you even if I had been drunken into oblivion! So do tell me Granger," He spat, "Then why did I kiss someone as filthy and impure as you?" His voice had a menacing edge to it, cold and disgruntled. It was like a low whisper that brushed against your ear, making you run for the hills, like a caged animal.

Hermione held his gaze for a full minute or maybe more, no one knows.

If he wanted to know then fine, have it his way then.

And so she told him, trying her best to not breakdown in between the sharp glances he threw at her, or the way he pulled at the roots of his thin platinum blond hair, or when he looked into her eyes and whispered standing too close to her lips, "You all will regret this."

Hermione had refused to acknowledge her friends after the events of today. She wanted to curl up into a ball and read Hogwarts: A History for the umpteenth time whilst sipping on some hot tea in her bed. Was that too much to ask? Apparently, it was; given her state. Hermione was in her head girl dorm room, she tried to read the thick volume in front of her but she just couldn't. She'd lose her focus and then forget where she was.

It kept happening until she finally gave up and closet he stupid thing with a bang.

Now, alone she sat in her dorm room, which of course, she shared with Draco dearest.

Speaking of that prat, Hermione noted that it had been several hours since she last saw him. After his hateful glare and nearly threatening threat, she had watched him stalk off into the dark. She had given up on her head girl duties, just for today. There seemed nothing more alluring than being curled up in her bed, avoiding the faintest worries of tomorrow.

Just when she thought she'd let her eyes close, the heard the sound of the main door being jerked open, the chains attached to it, clattered against the wood.

So his anger hasn't subsidized, Hermione was quick to take notice.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as her ear pressed to her door, hearing small but firm noises from the other side of the wooden door. She also heard the sound of a cooking pot being thrown onto thr ground, the vibration nearly making her jump.

If Draco Malfoy wanted his presence to be known, he sure made a good act of getting that done.

Just when she was sure that she heard his door close, she let out a small sigh and straightened her back, ready to step out and take in the damage he had done. She gathered her red Gryffindor scarf and put it around her neck to tackle the chilly weather before slipping on her shoes at the edge of the bed.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight before her, clearly, there had been more damage done than just a simple pot being thrown on the bloody ground. A sob escaped her lips when she realised that he had smashed her picture frame near the books she kept on the floor, right beside the little living area she liked to call; a picture of Hermione, Harry and Ron.

Tears brimmed in her eyes at the mere sight, Hermione, however, dared not to let even a single one slip. She refused to cry for the likes of that bastard, she simply refused to. With a wave of her want, she muttered, "Reparo," instantly easing at the sight when the broken glass frame fixed automatically.

She set the frame down, her smile, soft, it was then when she felt someone breathe onto her neck from behind, her eyes went wide and before she could retreat to the security of her wand, Draco had already pinned her down to the hard ground, her small and fragile wrists caught in his cold hands as he held them above her head.

For a second, Hermione thought he was going to do something that will get him into trouble, something brash like hurting her physically, but when she stopped struggling and yelling, all he did was look into her big chocolate eyes, as if trying to search for a door that will lead him away from his insanity, lead him to some place peaceful, some place where he could finally put away his mask of cruelty and breathe like any normal teen boy would.

But this wasn't just an ordinary teen boy, this was Draco Malfoy, he was anything but ordinary and normal, anything.

Hermione finally stopped, her lungs were begging her for air but she was too tried to protest now, this was like the icing on the cake after all she had endured the day.

But when the thunder cracked in the night sky, Hermione flinched, and so did Draco, but not because of the thunder strike, no, but because he had the brightest witch of her age, trapped right underneath his body, helpless and who knew?

Hermione Granger, war heroin, afraid of thunder?

Surely not him.

What Draco realised in holding her was that he wasn't feeling anything about being blood bounded, quite possibly, he enjoyed holding her skin and making her squirm under him, that's how sadistic his mind had gone. Draco realised that her skin was as smooth as a rose petal, fully bloomed and ready to be plucked, she was like that.

And it made him feel anything but the importance of blood purity, of course, he would never admit it, he had been heavily prejudiced after all, all his life.

When it felt like an eternity of not speaking between them, Draco inched closer to her mouth than ever, Hermione instantly turned away, her eyes closing at the mere sight of the monster atop of her.

Like a faint murmur, careful not to touch his lips to her ear, Hermione could feel the sadistic grin he would have on in that faint moment, "You don't know," he began, something coming over him as he allowed himself to let his lips brush her ear shell, "You don't know the choices I was given to choose from," He whispered in a hushed tone that made Hermione swallow.

"You don't know what I had to endure, you don't know anything." by now, his lips were touching her ear shell at every word he said. He twisted her wrist ever so slightly and painfully that made her moan in pain, "So don't you dare call me a traitor, don't you dare." he repeated his icy words like he was instructing a child.

As he finsied, so did his will to continue to look at her pathetic face. Draco stood up and ever so slowly walked towards his own room, leaving the bushy haired witch to cry when she saw the bluing skin on her wrists.

The bastard had an iron grip.

"Fuck you, Draco Malfoy, Fuck you." she yelled when he shut the door. Draco heard her, of course he did, and then, he smirked knowingly, like a predator setting his eyes on its prey.

"I will ruin you, you mudblood." was the last thing he whispered to himself before he laid in his bed.

Sleep never came, only the memory of kissing her senseless did, all night, until dawn when he finally took a sleeping draught, letting himself fall asleep right at the foot of his bed.

Hermione Granger's kiss plagued his mind all the time.