God, he'd been staring at her for weeks now, months... years. Everyday he felt he couldn't handle. He lived to steal glanced of her smile, her mirth, her happiness. He yearned for every moment that he spent sitting near her, bathing in the glow of her beauty, her intelligence. With every biting word thrown between them he felt that feeling grow. This tug at his insides, this harsh yank on his nerves. She plagued his thoughts and dreams and nothing, nothing but she could sate him.
But he knew he'd never have her. He knew that the being before him, though daily he told her she was filthy, muddy and inconceivably dirty to him... he knew that she was the purest entity he'd known. With every hurtful remark, he felt a little part of him grow wearier. More tired of the war that hadn't even begun. Some days He would lie in his bed, sating up at the canopy Hogwarts provided over each bed, and wonder... he would wonder before he wept over all that he knew was going to come.
Seventh year had come, with no up rise of Voldemort and his followers, no raid on Hogwarts and no brutal killings of anyone. He found himself sitting in a shared common room... glancing at the well decorated interior that many Head boys and Girls before him had enjoyed.
For the first time he could remember Draco Malfoy was nervous. He was nervous at being ill received by the woman he knew to be head girl. Now, Draco Malfoy had not become soft over the years, what with falling for some mudblood girl. No, he'd had built barricades, he had thrown himself into his schooling despite his parent's resentment of the school and all it stood for. His father still the illustrious death eater, and his mother the poster wife and mother of a pureblood family with roots dated back into the 14th century.
No, Draco Malfoy was not soft, only prepared. Or at least, he hoped so. He'd fell out with his previous lot, those brainless goons who followed him because he was a Malfoy, because of the prestige his father held in the circle of the dark lord. Draco kept company with those more intelligent in his house, Blaise Zabini and several others... Others that anyone looking would say were death eaters in training. However, Draco knew their feelings were like his own. The Dark Lord had no place in the world they were going to build, and should the entity not come up with that on his own... they would show him. Draco would show him, if it meant his life... if it meant his life for the mudbloods he hated all of his life until he'd come to Hogwarts and seen them all, seen how they could be.
The war would be soon now, what with Potter graduating this year. Draco had never formally made his chosen side known, preferring to keep his years at Hogwarts violence free for the most part. He'd stopped his ridiculing and his sneers. He'd taught himself patience and tried to rationally think how his current path was leading him. Truthfully, his mind was made up. He would fight alongside Dumbledore when the time came, but he would play his parents and Voldemort until the last second he could get away with it. Draco Malfoy was indeed a superior young man. He could be anything he wished, act like whatever he needed to get the job done, and done perfectly.
He brought himself out of his reveries and back to the present. She still had yet to arrive, probably doting on Potter and Weasly; those two were still as unkempt as they were when they began Hogwarts. She was always having to pick up their slack, and it was probably due to her that neither boy had fallen victim to Voldemort yet. Draco frowned icily, jealous of the two boys despite himself.
That's all right... now in his seventh year he knew what the tugs and wrenching inside his chest was. The day he came to realize it he almost laughed himself silly, the other Slytherin staring bleary eyed at him as if he'd lost his head. But he had, hadn't he? He'd changed his view on everything... over a woman who despised him, and surely wished him nothing but ill will. But, that was all right he'd told himself. He hadn't been sorted into Slytherin wrongly. Slytherins truly did anything they needed to achieve their ends... and she was his end. He would have her no matter the sacrifice.
Behind him, Draco heard the door open an inch or two. Whoever was coming in was trying to do so silently, but the creaking of the door made that task impossible. Draco chose not to turn; knowing whom it was entering anyway.
Apparently, after decided a silent entrance was dashed, the entrant threw the door open wide enough to get her trunk through, complete with cat carrier atop it. Draco made no move to turn or acknowledge her. He wasn't sure if this had been part of his plan, or if he simply couldn't bring himself to speak to her and have his words thrown in his face.
Hermione Granger grunted with the weight of her school trunk, dragging it through the entryway to the common room she would share with the Head Boy... with Draco Malfoy. She'd known for weeks he was going to be head boy. She made it her business to know such things. When she'd first found out, she was dumbfounded. Malfoy? However, her quick intellect had supplied her with all the thought she needed. After mulling over it for hardly five moments she'd realized that Draco Malfoy was the only logical choice. He held every quality a Head Boy ought to hold... and through their last year and Hogwarts he'd been proving himself for worth more than just a poster boy look. Sometimes Hermione believed his intelligence to surpass her own, and she had to hunker down for hours more studying than she'd originally planned.
She was so nervous she was shaking. What was it going to be like? What was he going to be like? She'd heard rumors... rumors that he'd lost the Malfoy edge, that he was loosing that dreadful being he once was and that every Slytherin cherished. Even Harry and Ron had noticed the significant change in Malfoy. Just in how he held himself he was different... However, she was still unsure. Every word she'd heard spoke nothing but change, but after years of torment change was hard to accept. But she would try. She would try for the wizard she hoped Draco Malfoy had become. She'd always known his intelligence, his wit; it was all for waste should he really be the prat he pretended to be.
"Hello Draco." She tried to sound cheery, and the sound of his first name of awkward on her tongue. But, this was the chance she was going to take. If he disliked it, then all he could do was yell and scream. She stood, one hand on the handle of her trunk, her other at her side as she awaited him to answer her greeting, or rather her plea.
Draco felt his whole body shudder. That voice was reserved only for greeting good friends. The use of one's first name implied trust and loyalty. Draco turned to look at Hermione, eyes quickly scanning her over and taking in every breathtaking detail of her. She stared at him with large honeyed eyes, her chocolate brown curls dripping over her shoulders and to mid back, falling loosely. She wore her school robes, neat and trim, socks up to her knees and laces perfectly tied. His face was soft, and in turn Hermione rigid stance was softening as well.
"Hello, Hermione." He answered. She smiled at him, eyes twinkling as she turned to drag her trunk into her own room. He smiled in return, the emotion of happiness still foreign to him. He moved forward, surprising her when he shooed her aside and took a hold of her trunk himself and put it inside her room. She stared at him now, as he stood in the doorway of her room, and she in her room.
"You've changed so much, I can just see it in your eyes." She said to him, physically resisting the urge to smooth out his hair. He gave her a chuckle, endearing rather than spiteful.
"I've come to terms with what I was becoming." He said, looking away from her now, "And I realized it wasn't what I wanted." He said, his voice low but his smile still in place. Hermione smiled at him.
"I see. Well then, how about we begin things anew? I would enjoy knowing a young man of such intelligence... I've heard so many things about him as of late that I simply must ask a hundred questions when he feels settled!" Draco laughed at her enthusiasm. He certainly had never thought her to be so welcoming, but obviously he hadn't given her enough credit.
"Very well, we'll begin anew. Let me introduce myself." He said, bowing a bit and taking her hand, "My name is Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy line and only son to Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. While my parents are... highly received in upstanding social gatherings... I am beginning to be looked upon as a bit of a black sheep to the prestigious Malfoy clan. Currently, I attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and studying in my seventh year as Head Boy." He grinned.
Hermione chuckled, allowing him to keep hold of her hand as she touched her chest in mock awe, "How fabulous! I then, and Hermione Granger, a half blood witch who is usually introduced in gatherings as 'The Smartest witch of her Age.' I to attend Hogwarts, what the coincidence, and will be sharing most of my time with the Head Boy... and oh! Didn't you say that was you, Mr. Malfoy? Well, I would be you're Head Girl!" She said, feigning surprise for their act.
"Well, well isn't this pleasant then! I'm sure we'll become grand friends in the future, Ms. Granger. And do address me as Draco from now on, will you?" He released her hand as he straightened. Hermione's smile only grew. She'd never expected such a day.
"Only if you adress me as Hermione, then I shall return the favor!"
"Consider it done, Hermione." Draco gave a little nod. Hermione chuckled.
"Now, with introductions out of the way... I will see you at Lunch, Draco. I must unpack you see." She smiled. Draco nodded, turning to leave for his own dorm.
"Draco!" Hermione voice trailed after him before he reached his door. He turned to look at her, door half closed and only her head poking out.
"I'm glad things are how they are, and I'm glad you are who you are." She smiled before shutting the door quickly. Draco felt his cheeks redden, and turned to enter his own room.
He threw himself on the dark green duvet, staring up at the canopy of his bed. How sickening that how spiel was... but oh god how wonderful it felt. He smiled up at the canopy, closing his eyes in bliss. He knew when he opened them again, he'd walk out of his room and see Hermione standing in the common room they shared, fussing over her robes or her cat... and that when he saw her she would smile at him with a smile reserved for friends...
God he loved her, and now he was positive he would have her.