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Author's Notes: This is not a story, merely a dabble. I do plan on writing a D/H story, but for now, I'm just experimenting with random ideas that pop inside my head (also helps with my writing). Every chapter will be different. Some will be dark, some will be stupid (actually, all of them will probably be), and others may be humorous or romantic, depending on where my mind leads me. Hope you enjoy. :)
Disclaimer: I think we all know that it's all J.K. Rowling.
"How can you live with yourself?" she asked quietly as her eyes averted to the ground in hurt. "You say you hate your father, but yet, you still look up to him. You're determined to follow in his footsteps. He's in Azkaban now, Draco. Why?"
His eyes pieced through her coldly. "Because I am a Malfoy, you stupid Mudblood, and to think that you would have figured that out by now. I have my duties and loyalties, none of which involve or relate to you in any way."
"You've told me all along that you were never good enough." She raised her head to stare at him, the sides of her eyes beginning to sting. He didn't seem to care at all. "So why are you willing to give yourself up for someone who thinks you're got good enough?"
"It's my duty, Granger. You have yours and I have mine. I never asked for your loyalty to me, I never asked for your help or your affection. I never asked for any of it." His words tore at her heart. How could he be so cold?
She scoffed at him unbelievably, no doubt trying to hold her composure. "I gave you that because you justified it, Malfoy. You earned my trust, my support, and my respect because I saw something in you, and I believed that you were good enough." She bit her lower lip, deciding whether to continue on or it. "I honestly thought you were good enough... so why isn't that good enough for you? Why..."
"Have you not been listening to me?" he barked out aggressively. "It's my damn duty as the son of Lucius Malfoy. My loyalty lies within my father, in the Dark Lord and no one else. Being good enough does not change anything in this matter."
"It should!" she shouted at him. "It should!"
"But it doesn't." He abruptly turned his back to her. "It never mattered, Mudblood... cry if you must, but don't expect me to do anything about it. After all, that's what Potter and Weasley are for. They're good for nothing else, really."
She watched in a daze as he walked away from her, slowly disappearing into the darkness. Her eyes began to blur with tears, her face buried deep within the palm of her hands. She tried to stifle her sobs, but the feeling was too overwhelming for her to keep in.
Suddenly, she felt a pair of warm arms wrap around her. She looked up to see who her comforting intruder was, and smiled through her tears when she gazed into a pair of familiar tender eyes. He had been watching from afar, his protective instinct high on alert when he had seen Malfoy drag Hermione out of the Great Hall like that abruptly.
She closed her eyes and took in his warmth in the cold of the night.
"Thank you, Harry," she whispered wearily.
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