Title: And She Will Be Loved

Author Name: Melissa Spitfire

Author email: melissa underscore spitfire at yahoo dot com (links screw up, but this isn't meant to be one)

Category: Romance

Sub Category: Angst

Keywords: Draco Malfoy Hermione Granger Auror

Rating: R (but that's far later)

Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, a little HBP there but I won't tell where

Summary: She never ever felt that she really belonged; never ever felt that she was really wanted. She is nothing but a shadow. But he is the ground where the shadow was cast, and it is in his deepest desires to make her see herself otherwise.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/n: Highly inspired by Maroon Five's "She Will Be Loved." So I don't suppose I should say that this is a songfic? Anyways... My first ever attempt on a Harry Potter fic, so please take this easy on me! ::grins sheepishly::

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Prelude: Beautiful Minds

Cameras flashed furiously as the newest batch of Aurors walked out of the new building of the Ministry of Magic, blinding not only the ones the reporters were trying to take snapshots of, but the other people inside the building and those at the sidewalk as well.

"Harry, what do you think of--"

"What is the real score between--"

"There has been news of violence in--"

"The Chudley Cannons said they wanted--"

Questions were thrown from practically everywhere, the media asking all at once, not even having mercy at what would most likely be a traumatic experience for Neville Longbottom, who stood behind the person to whom all inquiries were aimed for.

Hermione sighed exasperatedly as the Boy-Who-Lived Harry Potter was rained with different questions that she knew he would most definitely escape, if given a chance to. She nudged Ron at the back discreetly with her gloved hand. "Ron!" She whispered.

Said Ron tilted his head back slightly, angling his face so he could still see the reporters fawning at Harry beside him. "Yeah?"

"Let's go already!"

"Hermione, you know we can't escape!" Ron shot back in the same hushed tone, before turning again to smile at another reporter avidly taking pictures of him and Harry.

Hermione felt her eyes sting, so she quickly rubbed her eyes with her hand and held back her tears. It was always like this. She was used to being fawned by the press, but she never really liked it. At first she told herself that it was quite all right, since Harry and Ron were also sharing the same sentiments. They all were by far too exposed into the public eye, that every move they make would most probably make them the headline the next day at the Daily Prophet.

... Or so she thought.

She wanted attention and recognition, yes. In fact, it was what she wanted in the first place. That was why she studied all her lessons, did everything a week before the submission, studied as early as two months before the tests, and practically memorized Hogwarts: A History. She made it a point to excel in as much activities as she could (save for Quidditch) so that she would be given due recognition and appreciation. Call it stupid, looking for attention, but she didn't care. She never had satisfaction in simple things that in her perspective existed for no particular reason at all.

But she was getting sick of it... All the lights, all the attention, the entire buzz around her that wouldn't seem to stop.

"Hermione, do you think that the potion--"

"What about the specimens in the Forbidden--"

"How is it that you can still maintain--"

Hermione wanted to scream and flail and tell them all to bugger off, but she knew that any wrong move would most definitely ruin Harry's reputation. HARRY's, not hers. After all, when had she had a reputation?

Everything about her revolved around Harry Potter and his misadventures. Or Harry Potter and his image. Or Harry Potter and his fans club. It was always "Harry Potter and his friends," or "Harry Potter and the Gryffindors," even "Harry Potter and his girlfriend" (which of course, she felt revolted with the mere thought of). It was always a package deal: Buy one, take two. One being Harry, and two being she and Ron. No, no. Make that "Buy one, take one." She really didn't belong with the two. They were the real best of friends. She was merely an object to them: a walking dictionary, but most of the time a stick in their arses. They only loved her when it came to homeworks, essays, projects and exams. Not during summers to even let them consider inviting her to go with them to Romania, not during Winter Breaks to at least have her spend a few days in the Burrow with them before heading back to Hogwarts, not even from after the weekly Hogsmeade Trips to even remember bringing back a chocolate frog for her while she was left at the castle with Head Girl duties.

She was only their best friend whenever they had nothing up their sleeves but trouble. She was their lifeline in Potions and Transformation and Care for Magical Creatures and... Well, you know its actually every subject to her, save for Defense Against the Dark Arts -- the only subject that Harry and Ron seemed to have the natural talent in to even equal the top two students in the class. She was their conspirator, some sort of secret keeper of the two second generation Marauders; their involuntary follower who was at least much more important to them than Colin Creevey; their unconscious enemy who could be a much worse rival to them than Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy...

She thought she saw the unmistakable silver-platinum hair somewhere in the crowd that formed a few meters from the newly ordained Aurors. It had been months since she last saw him and that was in their Graduation Rites, when he gave her a curt nod and a sneer before ushering his mother out of the entrance and into the awaiting carriage for them. They have never met outside of Hogwarts after that, but she would often see him on newspapers and magazines, in articles pertaining to his businesses and affairs of the Malfoys. She even saw his picture in Witch Weekly's special issue about the most eligible Bachelors of the Wizarding World, where he (and Harry and Ron, of course) were lined up with Viktor Krum, Oliver Wood, and other Quidditch, Muggle Show business and Business personalities. But of course, she had never told anyone that she was one of the thousands of witches who bought the first limited edition printed copies. Hermione Granger never read magazines such as that, as she wasn't your ordinary witch.

She looked up, trying to search for the Slytherin. But as she scanned the mob for the third time, she convinced herself that it was just her imagination. Hermione shook her head slightly; the tall white hat crowning her suddenly toppled over and fell.

Hermione bent to retrieve the fallen article of Auror clothing when another flash of silver caught her eye. She stopped in mid-action and again scanned the crowd for the striking color, or even a familiar face and mocking smirk, but found none. Silvery blonde... It couldn't have been someone else. In all her years in the Wizarding World, she could only think of three people that she could associate the color with -- Lucius, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy.

'It had to be Malfoy...' She thought as she resumed to place the hat on her head. Lucius Malfoy was confined in St. Mungo's shortly after a shocking episode of his closed-door trial, where it was apparent that he was suffering from Schizophrenia. He firmly denied his affiliation with Riddle, but all evidence pointed to him, so they used the Veritaserum on him. It was still a denial that he insisted; that even if the Wizengamot used the strongest Veritaserum Potion on him (courtesy of her now-beloved Potions Professor, Severus Snape) they still resorted to use the pensieve on him. From there, it went weirder and weirder, because they actually saw how the famous businessman transformed into a diabolical, scheming leader of the Death Eaters and right hand man of Voldemort. It was a plead for sanity, and it was no doubt the hospital for him, not Azkaban... Or at least, what they were made to believe. But that doesn't remove him from being a Mungo's inmate.

Narcissa Malfoy, on the other hand, was immediately cleared of all the pressed charges against her, simply because the 'other' Lucius Malfoy placed her under the Imperius Curse. She took over all of the businesses of the Malfoys while Draco finished his education, and it was just a week after their Graduation that she made half of the Black wealth be passed on to his name -- the other half being given to Nymphadora Tonks, and the Malfoy wealth being when he reached twenty-one -- and the jobs that Narcissa took place temporarily were handed to him.

It had to be Malfoy... Well, Draco Malfoy, to be specific. He was the only one visible (though very rare to catch; she was fairly sure the newspapers only featured photos of him during graduation) in the public eye, being that his mother had withdrawn from being the benevolent businesswoman to the household party-planner and mistress of the Malfoy Manor. He, on the other hand, was always in the many business meetings and gatherings that as the CEO of all their companies he must attend. He would often make it to the headlines himself, bringing about surprising changes on the wizarding stock market. But then, at that time of the day, he would be very busy with his office work.

... And besides, Malfoy wouldn't even have to go in the crowd and squeeze his way through just for some stupid Gryffindors who made it as Aurors. That Malfoy pride of his would be severely bruised...

Again, she saw a figure in dark blue robes and blond hair matching the brightness of the sun that shone immensely today. She blinked again, and then it was gone.

'Agh... What is wrong with you, Hermione?' She mentally berated herself. Why was she looking for him anyway? In all her years in Hogwarts, not a day passed by without her receiving a sly remark, an irritating taunt, or just a wicked sneer from him. She would always dismiss him and walk off, though ever so often she had desperately tried to regain her self-control because her hand was practically itching to flick the wand in her pocket and hex him senseless. She didn't want to relieve her third year days.

But now, it seemed as if she was craving for the anger he alone could spur in her, hoping to see the cocky grin he always gave her and wishing desperately that he somehow showed up in every possible place to bug her off and call her 'Mudblood.'

... She could almost hear his whiny voice when he first called her that way back second year, at the Hogwarts grounds and in front of the Slytherin and Gryffindor Quidditch teams, and how for the succeeding years his usually high-pitched voice evolved slowly and became deep, matured, husky, and almost sensual...

"... Filthy little mudblood..."

What was happening to her? Of all the people to have train of thoughts of, she was thinking of Draco sodding Malfoy? Why is it that though he had no idea of what he was doing unintentionally, he was bugging her? What ever had the bloody git done to even earn her attention anyway? Why can't she just think of anyone else... Like, like... Draco?

Hermione was mad at herself. No matter how she used her brain to rationalize this situation she was in, her heart was already concluding that in a most unbelievable way, she missed the annoying prick.

She mentally scolded herself. She was no better than Lucius Malfoy. Next thing she knew, she'd be sitting in the same room with him, dressed in plain and immaculate white hospital robes, sipping earl gray tea from across his spot on the fancy table he demanded, and having a heated discussion over which from death by chocolate and devil's food was more chocolate. It made her want to laugh maniacally, that for a queer reason, the ever-imposing businessman and Hogwarts Governor turned paranoid schizophrenic would even consider having a conversation with, as his infamous son picked up from him, a 'filthy little mudblood.'

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione snapped out of reverie and saw a wand-like recorder being held at an angle just at her mouth level. "P-Pardon?"

The reporter gave her a confused look. "W-Well, Miss Granger. Professor Dumbledore told us that one of the Dark Arts book found in You-Know-Who's lair was given to you for translation and interpretation. Does it have anything significant that you can share?"

Hermione cast a long look at the Coffee Shop across the street, hoping for someone to give her a proof that she wasn't hallucinating. But the person she thought she saw was not there, and there was none out of the usual.

She sighed inwardly before speaking. "Well, I am yet done with the interpretation of the book, but I have translated some of it and I found out from this very interesting chapter that..."

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He stood on the edge of the dark alley beside the Ministry Coffee Shop just in front of the Ministry of Magic, hands inside the pockets of his midnight blue robes, the hat of the same hue as his robes contrasting his distinct tendrils and skin. He watched the reporters leave their beverages as they scuttled about from waiting at the booths on the sidewalk to the doors of the adjacent building. The newly ordained Aurors just came out from a meeting with the new Minister, and of course, since the ever famous Boy-Who-Lived was with them, the eyes of the whole of Wizarding London were on them. To him, it was just a waste of time to interview such a dumb person. Everyone knows that Harry Pothead is nothing without his friends.

... Or rather, without the girl who was standing right behind him and the Weasel King, and beside the stupid bloke Neville Longbottom. Why, the muggle-lover couldn't even answer a question from Snape if
his life depended on it!

He could not understand why wizards and witches were too fond of Harry Potter. Yes, he defeated Voldemort when he was but a child, managed to eradicate his existence for good just months ago and played hero in all his Hogwarts years. He was always there to save the day. But no, he wasn't the force behind it all. He was only visible, made the savior of the world or considered the leader of the trio because he was famous for being the adorable and mighty child who outsmarted Voldemort without his own knowledge of doing such. All his oh-so-noble deeds and his and Ron Weasley's courageous feats -- and even their remarkable grades -- were nothing without the voice of reason, the tactician, and the brains behind the operation, Hermione Granger.

Draco Malfoy watched Hermione's eyes dart around nervously at the crowd that formed once they exited the oak doors of the building, looking distressed at the commotion that she knew was about to happen. He lifted an eyebrow as he saw her sigh and nudge the oblivious Weasel King, who obviously was too engrossed at the photographers taking pictures of the bloke beside him. He saw Weasley angle his head a bit in her direction and it seemed they exchanged words, before he turned to smile at the reporters.

Agh, what a jerk, he heard himself say. To him what he teased Potter and Weasley before was just a joke, but it seemed that there really is something going on between the two.

His gaze landed again on Hermione, and he wasn't surprised to see that her chocolate orbs watered slightly. But the girl quickly placed the heel of both of her hands on her eyes and rubbed them to keep the tears from falling. He gripped the wand in his pocket tightly as a wave of anger overwhelmed him, his chest tightening at the sight before him.

What airheads, he thought. And they call themselves her best friends...

Draco saw Hermione blink, and when she opened her eyes, he felt her stare at him. Instinctively he stepped back into the shadows, hiding himself. Why he hid he didn't know, but he felt anxious when her gaze seemed to have landed on his. From his place, he could still see Hermione as she frowned slightly before foolishly shaking her head vigorously, dropping her long, white, Auror hat in the process. She moved to retrieve the fallen item, but Draco was sure she was eyeing the citizens warily. She replaced her hat, still looking pensive, not even noticing the reporter holding out his recorder to record her response to his question.

In all of his Hogwarts years, Draco couldn't understand why Hermione Granger was always better than him. He assumed it was because she had no other thing to do than read and memorize, and no life out of her social circle composed of her two "best friends," the Weaselette and her occasional companion Longbottom. He suspected she wouldn't even be close to her roommates. Those Gryffindor girls were no different from the girls in his house, who often gushed about fashion, cosmetics and boys (and him) and spared only half a minute to look into their schoolbags.

And he found his suspicions to be true when she became the Head Girl alongside him, because she only went out of their dormitory to head to her classes, to take meals, and to preside over prefect meetings. She was always hunched on the table scribbling the night away with lectures, essays, assignments and whatever he didn't know, or curled up on the couch in their common room reading a huge tome. She wouldn't even lift her head from her work to acknowledge his presence the first few weeks of Seventh year.

But now, it was different.

Somehow, during the ten months they spent sharing a common room, they became less hostile towards each other. In fact, it could be called civil, for they talked to each other occasionally regarding head duties. He could even consider her as a friend if not for her bodyguards/boyfriends/best friends following her around. Figures, he thought, because he knew that once she acknowledged him as a friend, Potter and Weasley would be furious, and their male pride would be very bruised. Ah, he was but male, too. Everyone knows that a man's pride matters. So instead of making her feel like she became close to him and broke through the barriers of his personality, he often treated her like he always did, however he disliked the idea... And he found himself wondering why he even disliked the idea of treating her just the same.

It was odd, but he felt drawn to her ever since. He would feel his anger rising whenever she was left behind by the other two, or when they approach her only when the quizzes and practical tests and exams were nearing, or when they would force her out of her room to squeeze some of her bright ideas. Was that what they saw in her? A huge reference material? And to think they claim to be her best friends! Why, if Hermione only knew...!

Draco continued watching the scene before him and waited for the crowd to disperse before heading to his personal coach parked at the other end of the dark alley he was standing on. After the meeting with the new Minister, he had somewhere else to go to.

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"Sorry Hermione, but we really have to go now." Harry stood up from his chair before leaning over to give Hermione a kiss on her cheek. "I hope you forgave us about... You know that we couldn't do anything."

'Hah, it's because you WOULDN'T do anything,' Hermione thought darkly.

Ron stood up from his chair beside Harry and did the same. "You understand, do you? I mean, it's something--"

'Understand? Kindly enlighten me!' She wanted to retort, but she held the thought back. "It's okay, Ron." Hermione said pointedly. "Be careful though, you two. I don't want your corpses being sent to me in rectangular boxes and be the one responsible to break the news to the Weasleys and the Dursleys." She smiled at the two.

"We won't die, I promise!" Ron threw his coat on.

'Just make sure of that...'

"Don't worry, 'Mione. We'll bring home something for you from Germany." Harry smiled back.

'Oh no, you wouldn't,' the voice inside her head commented. "Harry, it's all right. Now run along, little kids. I'm sure Percy's waiting for the top Aurors."

Harry and Ron began to walk away from the corner booth they were sitting at before Ron turned. "Uh, you'll pay for the butterbeer, right?"

Hermione laughed at him. "Yes, yes, I will. Now go away!"

The two boys left the Three Broomsticks without even a single glance back at her. Once they were out of sight, Hermione's smile faded almost instantly, and she glared at the chair that the two once sat at.

It was always like this. All she had to do was to pretend to be all right, and they would leave without even so much as a backward glance at her. Don't they even realize that they're where they are now because she didn't give up on them? Don't they owe all that they have now to her?

No, Hermione didn't want to actually count everything she did for them, but she couldn't help it. They became the top two Aurors because she taught them all those advanced spells, charms and potions that they didn't know; shared her notes with them and allowed them to copy her assignments and essays so that they would get an O in their subjects; she even broke a very strict rule of cheating just to help them answer ninety percent of the questions in the Auror examination! And now, they couldn't even do her a favor of thanking her for always going out of her way just to help them?

She finished her mug of butterbeer and placed it gently back on the table. "It's unfair..." She mumbled silently. She was always stuck with the two of them. Sure, she loved both of them, but to become someone else just for their sake... She wasn't a martyr! She wasn't a depressed girl! She wasn't an introvert! But no, since she had to bear with them, she was forced to be what she was now. She couldn't talk about school or books or even about herself when they were around! It was always all about them or their dreams of being an Auror; even Quidditch was a better topic for them than her problems. Whereas the two have their own girl friends, she hasn't got anyone because the other boys out there couldn't approach her for Harry and Ron were much too intimidating. (Or others think one of them was her special someone) Hermione choked back a sob. But she wouldn't cry in public, she'd just make it to the headlines.

'Muggle-born Witch Granger Dumped by Boy-Who-Lived'

... How infuriating! She grabbed her book instead and began to read. But she can't help but think about her situation...

Physically, she may be part of the Golden Gryffindor Trio, but in all other aspects, she wasn't anymore...

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The bells on the door clinked against each other when he entered the shop a little while later; he was fed up with watching her from the window of his coach and through the hazy glass walls of the shop. He was already devising a way to shoo off Potter and Weasley when just then the two stood up and walked out of the establishment. He was wondering why they left, but then he remembered that the two would be sent to Germany for a very important Ministry affair together with the third Weasley. Wait... Wasn't Hermione the top Auror...? Ah, yes... Boy-Who-Lived and his sidekick WERE the top Aurors. What a joke. Why, if he had taken that examination... If she hadn't made them copy those answers, which he was sure she did...

He shook his head as he walked past the fireplace. No time to think of those two... "Such nuisance," he mumbled. It was a good thing they left… All the more chances for him to talk to her.

Draco walked up to the corner booth where Hermione sat, the latter not even noticing his approach. Why, she is frowning again, he thought. Was there ever a time that she actually smiled? He slipped in on the seat across her, the chair where Harry sat earlier. He wasn't surprised when she didn't even notice him there. He knew from experience that Hermione Granger could not be disturbed in her reading session, because she was always too absorbed in her books.

"Fancy meeting you here, Granger."

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"... At every performance for the rest of that month, I prepared for my entrance in the same way, by concentrating on "The Courtier Returns to His Wife," until I could feel the sadness laying itself over me. We human beings have a remarkable way of growing accustomed to things; but when I pictured Mameha dancing her slow lament, hidden from the eyes of the husband and his mistress, I could no more have stopped myself from feeling that sadness than you could stop yourself from smelling an apple that has been cut open on the table before you..."

Hermione read aloud as she tried to understand the book she brought along with her before going to the Ministry, but her mind kept on drifting and drifting back to her problems. Will she ever be actually happy?

"Fancy meeting you here, Granger."

She suddenly looked up from her work and couldn't help but drop the book accidentally on the table when she heard a masculine voice talking to her.

"M-M-Malfoy?!" She asked incredulously. "W-What are you doing here?" She swallowed, clearing her throat as she spoke her next question firmer. "... What do you want?"

Draco shrugged nonchalantly. "A drink... Frankly, I miss the usual beverage I always had during Hogsmeade weekends... And why is it that your precious boyfriends aren't with you? Finally realized you weren't worth their time?"

Hermione frowned. "They're not my boyfriends, you know that. And why are you here anyway? Don't you have any other place to sit on?" She snapped back.

"Many customers at this time, obviously. I was actually aiming for a spot in the bar there," He gestured. "But there's no other left. And since we're... Old schoolmates and acquaintances... I was hoping you'd be gracious enough to, say, share the booth. You don't mind that, do you?" He smirked.

Hermione was irritated yet glad at the same time. In these changing times, she knew she could count on Malfoy to be the slimy git he always is. Her eyes narrowed at him, and she set her mouth straight, before grabbing her fallen book and opening it again. "Fine. Just don't bother me."

Draco smiled even wider at her, before calling the waiter. "A glass of firewhiskey... No, no. Make that two." He said before dismissing the waiter and casting his gaze back at Hermione. He eyed her, and sure enough, she didn't even notice him at all.

Hermione was aware of his eyes on her, and she can't help but be conscious of his gaze. What was he staring at? Was he scrutinizing her? Was he--

Deciding to grab her attention, he reached out his hand to grab the book. "What have we got here?"

She felt her book being plucked out of her hands and she instinctively clucked her tongue in annoyance. "Give it here, Malfoy." She said calmly.

Draco flipped the book to read the title. "Memoirs of A Geisha... A muggle book. Never pegged you as one for romance novels, Granger." He taunted.

"It's nothing like that, Malfoy. Unlike you, I happen to know how to choose substantial books. Which reminds me, what is your favorite book? 'How To Conquer the Wizarding World in Eighty Days' by Tom Marvolo Riddle?" She retorted as she made to grab her book back.

Draco evaded her grasping hand. "I happen to know how to pick substantial books." He shot back. "And to answer your question, I love to read 'The Alchemist,' 'The Da Vinci Code,' 'Angels and Demons,' and a lot of Shakespeare's works. I don't read crappy and useless ones." He smirked yet again.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You haven't changed a bit, Malfoy. Same old conceited git."

The waiter came back with the two firewhiskeys he ordered and left immediately. Draco sighed dramatically. "I am wounded by your accusations, dear Hermione. You think so low of me."

"Aren't you?" She taunted, before successfully retrieving her book from him. "Now bugger off." She unconsciously reached for the firewhiskey set in front of her.

Draco smirked from behind his drink, and his smirk grew when Hermione winced and set down her book to look at her drink.

"Firewhiskey? But I was drinking..." She trailed off, before glancing at her empty mug of butterbeer beside the mug of firewhiskey. She looked up at Draco, who was staring at her bemusedly. "Are you trying to poison me?"

Draco shook his head. "No..."

"Then what's this?"

"Well, you reached for my other drink..." He pointed at the glass in her hand. "I was saving that."

Hermione had the decency to look abashed. "Oh... Sorry. I'll pay for it." She said almost in a whisper.

Draco smiled triumphantly. "No, that was actually for you."

Hermione looked at him skeptically before huffing. "Okay, what are you playing at?"

"I'm not playing, Granger."

"Of course, you aren't!" She exclaimed. "Because your idea of playing is throwing hexes and
Unforgiveables at your opponents!" She glared at him, hazel eyes flashing angrily.

"Look, I'm trying to be civil here. It was just a bloody drink! Merlin's beard, Granger. You're making a big fuss about a firewhiskey!" He retorted exasperatedly. "It was just for old time's sake. Was it that bad?" He matched her gaze with his gray stone cold stare.

A heavy silence ensued between the two, although it was anything but in the shop. Good thing the shop was too noisy to hear the two of them shouting at each other just a while ago.

Hermione's shoulders sagged in resignation as she averted her eyes. "Fine, fine. Just... Please, mind your own business, okay?" She half-pleaded, half-commanded. She looked up at him. She was already having a lot of difficulty carrying her problems and hiding them from the world, yet here he was, bugging her and making her go crazy. If only he would try to reach out to her...

Hermione chided herself silently. Malfoy... Ah, if that happens, then the sky must be falling...!

Draco simply shrugged and gazed out at the street. She wanted to sound defiant, but he heard the faintest exhaustion in her almost-pleading voice. Did she really mean that? Did she really want nobody to know her worries? "Suit yourself, Granger."

Hermione was baffled at his answer. Why was it that Malfoy looked like he knew something she didn't? Ignoring the nagging feeling inside her, she resumed reading her book.

A few minutes and another round of firewhiskey later, Draco spoke. "I have a question." He set down his mug on the table to look at her.

Hermione looked up at Draco from behind her book. "What? And be sure it's sensible enough."

"I take pride in indulging in sensible conversations, Granger." He retorted. He saw Hermione roll her eyes and then shrug, and taking this as a signal, he continued. "After graduating with the highest honors, achieving your dreams of being an Auror, and being able to aid in the Dark Lord's demise, is there anything you still want?"

Hermione paused from her reading, but she didn't place her book down. "Well... No. I think I don't want anything else... I think I have everything I nee--"

"Do you? I mean, need nothing more?" Draco prodded on.

"No... As far as I am concerned, I have nothing in my life that I find unsatisfactory."

"Ah," He nodded, as if dealing with an executive. "And you're happy now?"

Hermione stopped reading altogether, but she pretended to still be engrossed at the book. Am I happy? She asked herself. She didn't need to let Malfoy know that she was actually weighing his words, but she figured not looking at him would make it look like she was. So, she summoned her self-confidence and brought herself to look at him squarely and with as much conviction as she could muster, she responded. "Y-Yes. I'm quite happy... Are you? I mean, happy?" She asked in return, but quickly realized the error of her words. "Ah, but of course. What with the positions, stocks and wealth you now possess... That was foolish of me." She laughed humorlessly.

Draco pushed her book down, forcing her to look at him. Her almond eyes looked at him unguarded, and he quickly recognized the hesitation she was feeling. He knew she was not happy, yes. But what about, he didn't know. He wasn't used to comforting friends, since all of his friends were just a bunch of emotionless freaks (or emotional hapless girl like Pansy) but somehow he recognized that look... That look that he often saw whenever he was facing his mirror...

"You're not happy, Granger."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed repeatedly as she tried to answer back, but to no avail. For the first time in her life, someone actually read her accurately. Was this some special talent that Malfoy possessed -- and used -- to easily read his enemy's personality? "How can you say that? You don't even know me like my friends do!" Hermione couldn't keep her voice from rising.

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her. "I don't?" He mocked her. "Oh, yes. I do not know you. After all, I am but the insufferable git that made all of your Hogwarts years miserable. Who am I to know you when your so-called friends don't even spare a moment from their precious time to understand you?"

"Don't talk about my friends that way!" Hermione bellowed, though she felt like shrinking in her seat. How could someone know that much about her? Especially Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin King and pompous bloke that had nothing else to do than piss her off? It made her feel vulnerable in his eyes. Was this how the Malfoys manipulated people? By using their unusual silver gray eyes to read the secrets and emotions that lay hidden and shrouded beneath a person's façade? "They... They are not like that..." Not being able to look at Draco, she fixed her gaze on the edge of the table, where her hands were gripping the sides of it tightly.

'Damn those two,' he heard his mind say. After all the times that they left her like an old rag, she still chose to defend them? What happened to that levelheaded, rational and reasonable Gryffindor he knew in Hogwarts? Sighing tiredly outwardly but seething with contempt within, Draco grabbed the mug from across him and took a swig of Hermione's firewhiskey before pulling himself up on his feet. He plastered a sneer on his handsome features. "It was nice having a drink with you, Granger. I'm looking forward to meeting you again next time." He drawled out lazily.

Hermione looked up from her place, taking in Draco's tall frame. Somehow, his towering height made her feel so small. Even if Ron and Harry were like twin towers when they stood on either sides of her, they never really looked that tall. Unlike Draco, they weren't imposing and confident. Even the air around Draco was full of dignity and his mere posture demanded respect. He was intimidating, to say the least. So intimidating that she couldn't find the words to say to him. She couldn't help but feel inferior to him so she quickly looked down and focused her gaze on the empty mugs.

Draco nodded slightly at her and tipped his hat; a parting gesture, though she didn't see it. He then walked away from a now-silent Hermione. Well, he wasn't successful today, but there will always be another time... And he'll make sure of that.

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»Some Additional Notes«

"Give it here, Malfoy." - Harry Potter, from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. A very D/H moment. I'm a big Draco/Harry fan, you know... Actually, I'm a Draco fan all in all. I'm a worshipper of Draco/Harry, Draco/Hermione, Draco/Ginny, Draco/Pansy, Draco/Snape... Just not Draco/Ron or Draco/Neville! - And I see myself as Hermione in this fic too... Very boring and very used... -; But that's beside the point... But all in all D/H and D/Hr rocks!

"... At every performance for the rest of that month, I prepared for my entrance in the same way, by concentrating on "The Courtier Returns to His Wife," until I could feel the sadness laying itself over me. We human beings have a remarkable way of growing accustomed to things; but when I pictured Mameha dancing her slow lament, hidden from the eyes of the husband and his mistress, I could no more have stopped myself from feeling that sadness than you could stop yourself from smelling an apple that has been cut open on the table before you..." - This is an excerpt from one of my favorite books, Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden. Chapter 23, page 268, third paragraph of the Vintage Contemporaries Edition, which was printed in July 1998. I babbled a lot just so I wouldn't be accused of unauthorized use of this particular paragraph. It's just that the novel is very captivating...

A/N: Review! Please! - And Happy Christmas to everyone! I just love how I made Lucius a schizo… He's such a biseinen… ::squees::