A Coward Indeed

Malfoy had trouble concentrating on his work, that day. It didn't really help that Snape had paired him up with Hermione to work on the potion. He couldn't even count right. No matter what he tried, he would lose count at around ten, and then would have to start counting…once again.

"Malfoy? MALFOY!" Hermione shouted, and finally succeeded to get his attention, "The locus wings? Have you counted out fifteen yet?"

"Oh uh…about that…do you mind doing the counting?" Draco finally stammered, realizing he can't count while thinking about Hermione's piercing words of hatred.

Angrily grabbing the locus wings, Hermione started to count out fifteen delicate wings to add to the potions. Reality was that she couldn't take her mind off her words either. How could I have said such things? Something could happen…and I would never be able to take back those words. Malfoy could die thinking that I hate him, and I would never be able to tell him that he was respected by me, for his way of words. That even though he's a bloody git, I still have a certain respect for him, and not because he's a pureblood or because of his wealth. She thought, as she furiously threw the locus wings into the potion. The gray potion bubbled to a bright lime green, and then died down to be a red color.

Malfoy stared at the cauldron. First green, then to red, just like the colors of Slytherin and Gryffindor… The thought made him blink, bitter reminiscence washed over him as he could almost feel the perfection he felt with Hermione crying in his arms. Without meaning to, he whispered out loud, "Don't cry it doesn't become you, Hermione. You're amazing, you're independent. Don't cry for something Weasel said…Merlin, if I had a friend as great as you, I wouldn't ever yell at you. Now, we all know that it's a terrible time when angels cry…and you are fair enough to be an angel." He could see Hermione stiffen as she heard his words, luckily nobody else seemed to notice.

Finally, class ended. Arithmacy was next, another class that was shared by both Hermione and Draco. From before vacation, they had been paired up to do a project together, since they were both top in class, and not to mention; Heads. But before Malfoy could even reach the class, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Spinning around, he saw that it was Granger.

"Granger, it's a pleasant meeting you here. It would be worse if it were someplace fancy, for surely your filthy blood would ruin its elegant adornments."

"You would be wise to keep your mouth shut, Malfoy. I have to speak to you, and bloody hell, we'll skip Arithmacy for just this once."

"Well, this is interesting. Hermione Granger, Head girl, Gryffindor bookworm, persuading moi, Draco Malfoy, Head boy, Slytherin Ice Prince, to skip class? This is far too amusing. I gladly accept your invitation to skip class, but you'd have to make it worth my while…" Draco drawled with his trademark smirk.

"Into our common room. Come with me. Right this instant, Malfoy," Hermione said, emphasizing the time. Reluctantly, Malfoy followed the clearly enraged bushy haired girl. Once they were inside, Hermione took over the talking. "What is with you? You can't even count to fifteen in thirty minutes, yet you can recite a speech that was spoken over ten hours ago!"

Draco's gray blue eyes bulged out. So she's concerned? Is that a good thing…or a bad thing? He felt his eyes welling up with tears, but he bit them back. Malfoys don't cry. Where is your shame, Draco Malfoy? Your father will have your head if he knows you've been crying in front of…her.

Hermione's eyes widened. "You do realize…you spoke that out loud, do you not?"

"Spoke what out loud!" Malfoy said, fearing the worst. Had I said the part about her being concerned? Or the crying part?

"That Malfoys don't cry. And your father will take your life from you. And don't you dare say that he wouldn't, and that it was just a figure of speech. I know what your father is capable of," Hermione felt her voice waver with concern and fear. It was true; she did know what the older Malfoy was capable of. In fact, he had attempted to murder her before. She could almost feel her eyes soften, boring into the soul of Draco Malfoy, trying to pry every detail out of him, and be able to care for him. Just why is it, that I feel that I have to comfort him?

"I…" For once in his lifetime, Draco was at lost of words. Even though it was painful to admit, he knew he had to tell Hermione the truth. "I'm a coward."

"You're…you're what!" Hermione said, shocked, and not believing her ears.

"I'm a coward," Malfoy said again, feeling courage this time, and continued, "I'm afraid. All this time, even though I wouldn't show it, I just wanted someone's shoulder to cry on. They say that Slytherins, Malfoys in particular, shouldn't have emotions. But it's not true. I have emotions. Strong emotions. But I'm a coward. I'm too cowardly to admit it to someone, and to ask for a shoulder to cry on. I'm too afraid to be rejected. Yes, I'm a coward." With that, a solitary tear spilled from his eye.

Surprising Draco, Hermione drew him into a hug, "You can cry on me, Draco. You can cry on my shoulder. I won't reject you. I'm sorry for all the stereotypes. I'm sorry you're caught in the middle."

Draco, never feeling someone comforts him before, or let him cry on their shoulder before, especially after an embarrassing confession, felt lighter; as if something was lifted off his chest. And so he did, he cried while Hermione hugged him, letting his entire torn up soul relax.

Finally, it was dinner, and Malfoy was done crying. Together, they walked out to the Great Hall, an unspoken truce understood between them. Hermione sat next to Ron and Harry, as though they hadn't been in a fight only twenty-four hours ago.

"I'm sorry, Mione. I don't know what got over me. I just really, really despise Malfoy," Ron muttered underneath his breath.

"I'm sorry too, Mione. I guess Slytherins aren't that bad. I'm not saying that you are dating Malfoy, but if you are, I'd be fine with it. Like in the future if anything…you know," Harry said, looking Hermione squarely in the eye.

"Apologies accepted. Malfoy and I are just friends… And… Harry? What do you mean Slytherins aren't that bad? Ever since we've been enrolled in Hogwarts, you've hated their guts!"

"Well umm…." Harry turned bright red, putting Ron's hair to shame.

"C'mon Harry, you can tell us…" Ron said, teasingly.

"Ronald Weasly! Don't scare the poor boy, for Merlin's sake! So, Harry, do you plan on telling us or not?" Hermione said, a playful grin tugging on her lips.

"I'minlovewithPansyParkinson," Harry said, in one breath.

"Wait, what! Did you, Harry James Potter, just say you were in love with Pansy Parkinson?" Hermione and Ron said together in disbelief.

Harry's face turned to an even brighter red, and nodded embarrassedly. Well this is going to be interesting… Hermione thought. "Well…I was talking to Malfoy the other day, and Parkinson came up…he said he could've sworn he saw her doodle your name all over her notes…" Harry's deep green eyes widened, obviously curious to anything else about Pansy.

Just then, Pansy Parkinson walked right up to the Gryffindor table, and sat herself down next to Harry, practically smashing Hermione and Neville aside as if she never noticed them. "Speaking of the Dark Lord," Hermione whispered to Ron. Ron only nodded, as if this was going to be the most interesting movie of the year that he was watching happen right next to him.

"Harry, did I ever tell you, your eyes are just…magnificent?" Pansy's syrupy voice said, as Harry turned even redder than before and mumbled something under his breath. "What did you say, Harry dear?"

"Isaidnoandthatyourdeepblackeyesaremuchmoremagnificentsincetheyseemliketheyholdfireintheirdeepdepths." Harry said a bit more audible this time.

Obviously, without thinking, Pansy had pressed her lips with Harry's, letting everyone to see. Both their eyes closed, giving in to the sudden passionate kiss and everyone applauded. But only Pansy and Harry could feel the sparks when their tongues danced, and that they were in their own little world, where love conquered all. They only stopped, when Dumbledore stood, tapping his spoon against his goblet, breaking the kiss, leaving Pansy and Harry wearing their bright red blushes. Pansy muttered something that sounded awfully like, "Sorry and bye," and ran back to her seat at the Slytherin table.

Hermione let her eyes wander to the Slytherin table then, locking eyes with a certain platinum blonde haired boy with gorgeous grey blue eyes that seemed silver in the shining light. Dumbledore said his speech, but both Hermione and Draco blocked it out, as their eyes just gazed into each other's souls. Before they knew it, dinner was over, and eight o' clock had dawned.

Both went into their rooms to retrieve their freshly written poems and headed for the Astronomy Tower together. When they reached it, they saw that most had already arrived, but none had even a piece of parchment with them. "Didn't anyone bother to WRITE any poems?" Hermione said with her anger aroused.

All the prefects looked at each other, and shook their heads no. Letting out a desperate sigh, Hermione said, "Not even you, Harry and Ron and Ginny, my supposedly best friends who should've backed me up!" She could already feel the fire build up in her eyes, angered at them all. She was just about to punch every Prefect in the room when she felt a hand on her shoulder, obviously trying to calm her down. Spinning around, Hermione realized it was Draco.

"It's not worth it, Hermione. Let's just get to the point and nominate the names of the band, and also give out the places that each of these bloody prats is going to get."

Hermione nodded, still too angry to say any words without spitting out emotional fire. With that, Draco took lead. "Since you idiots are too self-centered to write anything, we'll just have to nominate. Who, or which people, do you all think writes the best?"

Ginny raised her hand delicately, even though she hated Malfoy with all her guts. She had to do this, for Hermione's sake.

'Weaselette, who's your nomination?" Malfoy spoke, coldly and with indifference and rudeness.

"Whoever that wrote the lyrics to the song you and Hermione sang on New Years."

"Weaselette, that would be Hermione and I, and if you do not mind, we were looking for a Prefect to take part as lyricist for the band that we are going to all have to be part of, the loony Headmaster's orders."

"There isn't a bloody one of us Prefects that can match your talents," Ginny said, walking up boldly to the two Heads, snatching the parchments of poetry from their respective hands. "You two even think alike when separated, and you both have the wittiest way with words, something that none else of us have!"

"Weasel, do you mind calming your insane sister, she has no idea what she's mumbling about, and just how does she know, without even looking at the parchments, that what Hermione and I wrote are similar, or that we were far away from each other!"

However, Ron just stood there, glaring. "How dare you call Hermione by her first name, just what is your relationship with her! Obviously, you think it's something more than friends, but Hermione confirmed it tonight that you're just friends!"

"RONALD WEASLY. HAVE YOU GONE MAD! WE ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF A MEETING HERE, AND DRACO IS RIGHT, GINNY IS INSANELY WAVING AROUND FOUR PIECES OF PARCHMENT SAYING THAT HE AND I THINK ALIKE, WHEN SHE HASN'T EVEN GLANCED AT WHAT WE'VE WRITTEN. IF YOU'RE BLOODY HELL NOT GOING TO CALM HER DOWN, I WILL. AND DON'T YOU DARE MAKE THESE VILE, AND THEREFORE ABSURD, AND INVALID ACCUSATIONS THAT THERE'S SOMETHING MORE GOING ON BETWEEN DRACO AND I!" Hermione screamed at her best friend, and grabbed the four pieces of parchment from her best female friend's hands. Ron glared at her use of 'Draco' but knew better than to hold her against it while she was in a ranting rage. "Please, stop this insanity in here!" She pleaded, almost desperately. With that, she handed all four papers to Malfoy and took control once again. "Moving on, why don't we just… choose a name for the band?

Blaise's hand went up, rather hesitantly. "Yes, Zabini?" Hermione said, trying to control her voice.

"Why not the name, Pure Soul?" Hermione nodded, and smiled at the shy Slytherin boy. She wrote down Pure Soul, and for another fifteen minutes, many band names were suggested, as Draco was reading the poems over and over again, not believing what he read.

"You may only vote once. How many people want the name, Pure Soul?" Three hands shot up, and Hermione scanned the list, "How many wants Last Wish?" Two hands shot up. "Stray Dream?" Nobody voted, and for the next five minutes, they voted upon the remaining band names. They ended up with Pure Soul as their name. "Okay, you are all dismissed. But, by the time of our next Prefect meeting," she sent a glare to everyone in the room, "I want you all to have an idea for how to design our 'signature', and have some samples of your work." Eight students nodded, in fear of her frightful wrath.

When all but Draco and Hermione had left, Malfoy grabbed her arm, telling her to read his poems. Her eyes widened when she finished, "They're… so similar," she whispered, almost fearing that if she spoke it too loud, Ginny would run into the room screaming "I TOLD YOU SO, I TOLD YOU SO…"

Malfoy spun Hermione around, so that he could see her intense honey brown eyes. In the moonlight, they seemed like a beautiful flame that could never be put out. He itched to just pull her closer, and kiss her, but knew that it wouldn't be the best thing to do at a time like this. How can she put my feelings onto paper, even though she doesn't know me? It's almost like she's killing me softly with her songs, because I don't want to know that anyone else understands. If they do, then my life, I'm afraid would be even more controlled than now. But she doesn't even know it's my life, yet she can put my life onto the paper.

Hermione, too, stared into Malfoy's soul, trying to understand how he can understand everything about her, without knowing it. How can he know, that I've always wanted to run away? I've never fitted in anywhere. Before Hogwarts, the kids fear me, because once when I got really mad, I felt, and saw, a red aura surround me and a kid was thrown across the playground. Here in Hogwarts, when I finally understand magic, most people hate me. They hate me because I'm a bookworm. Someone boring, and too intellectual for my own good. Yet, Draco could put it all…in a song. Finally, the awkward silence broke when Hermione, being the to-the-point person she was, asked, "How can you…put all my feelings in your songs?"

"I don't know, but you do the same. How did you know that I feel like I'm always living in a shadow of doubt? How did you know that I am screaming inside to just punch my father in the face and ask him why he has to be a coward and just cast the Cretaceous curse on me every time I speak in a way that leaves him speechless?"

"I didn't know. The songs I wrote, they were about my life, not yours. And just how did you know that I've always wanted to run away, and that my true dad, who I am forced to call uncle, orders me around, especially that he wants me to become a doctor?"

"I didn't. The song 'Live and Let Live' was written about Lucius and I, and I've always wanted to run way too. Elaborate please, about your uncle that's your true father," Draco said truthfully, literally spitting out Lucius' name.

"I—I'm a bastard. My mom was with my real father for four years, and even lived with him. She was pregnant with me for two weeks, and not knowing that, she broke up with him. Then, three weeks later, she met her ex-'s twin brother, fell in love. When she realized she was pregnant, they quickly married. My real father hates me, because he thinks my mother was cheating on him, and that I was the only reason the broke up. My mother hates me, because I remind her so much of her heartbreak, and the one I'm forced to call my father hates me, knowing that I'm not his. The word 'family' feels hollow now, for I haven't one." Tears had started to spill out of her eyes, and she spoke quicker and quicker, trying to just finish the dreadful story.

"Have you ever told anyone about that, Hermione?" Draco asked softly while wiping away her tears.

"I told you, just now," Hermione answered, stepping a little closer to Draco as a chill started to settle in the Astronomy tower. What am I doing? Why am I telling him so much? Why am I telling him things that I have never even told Harry and Ron? Why am I even stepping closer to him? She thought, but her thoughts were silenced when Draco's arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her even closer as they just stared out the window, looking at the beautiful diamond sky. Then, Hermione realized something. "This…this is wrong, Draco," she said pulling back.

Trying to hide his disappointment, Draco turned around, and the two walked in silence to their room. When they were in the common room, standing in front of each their respective portrait holes, Draco said unexpectedly, "Good night, Hermione."

Hesitating, Hermione too bid Draco good night. But neither slept at once. Both had started to write. They'd written something that they both thought were something far better than anything else they've written, possibly because the feeling was still fresh in mind. I'll show this to Draco tomorrow morning. Hermione thought as she slipped into her nightgown, and fell to the wraths of sleep, with a smile on her face while dreaming of a pleasant boy who plagued her dreams so often lately.

Draco, in the adjacent room to Hermione, finished his song at the same time she did. I'll show this to Hermione tomorrow morning, and with that thought, he stripped down to his green boxers, and fell asleep, dreaming of a certain Gryffindor beauty with unruly locks of brown hair.

When morning stuck that Saturday morning, Hermione ran into the restroom, and showered. Coming out into her room with only a towel, she looked through her drawer, looking for something cute, but not too revealing. Finally, she found what she was looking for. A soft green turtleneck, with two silver bands towards where her stomach was, that hugged her curves, yet kept her warm. Along with this, she wore black baggy pants, ones that she had borrowed from Harry, but he told her to just keep it, seeing that he'd outgrown it three months before she'd asked to borrow them. It wasn't strange to her to wear Harry's pants at all, since they were usually feminine looking with a male twist, because his aunt chose all of his muggle clothing. With one last combing through her dreadful hair, she walked out into the common room, in her hands the song she'd written the night before.

Draco was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Nothing seemed right on him. He'd showered at five AM, but he couldn't find anything suitable to wear. Currently, it was eight, and he, the Slytherin Prince, was having a hard time finding the proper clothing to face Hermione that day. With a frustrated cry, he threw on a green t-shirt and black pants. Seeing that it actually matched, he walked into the common room, in his hands the song he'd written the night before.

"Draco---"

"Hermione---"

"You first---"

"You first---"

"No you---"

"No you---"

With a frustrated cry, they thrust the parchment in each other's faces, hoping they'd understand what they were trying to tell the other to do. Both eyes bulged out when they skimmed through the song. They were exactly the same:

We're Opposites

Stop staring at me,
I'm not worth catching your eye,
don't even smile at me,

It's where our loyalties lie.
I'm a broken soul,
I'm destined to cry until I die,
You're a free spirit,

Tonight, I'll let you fly.

I'm staring up to the sky,
Life is passing me by,
the line between Hate and Love,
and it's thinning far too quickly.

I've seen the Heavens above,
And the burning Hell for the lowly.

Can you be my angel,

And let me fly?

Can you be my friend,
And never let me die?

I'll smile at you sweetly,
Just to hide my fears,
I'll run away secretly,
Just so you won't see my tears,
Stop looking at me knowingly,
You don't even know half my fears.

Inside I'm dying to know,

Why these feelings grow.
It used to be simpler,
I hate you, and you hate me.

You were with her,
I was left alone to be,
the one solitary hater.

But how can this be wrong,
when it feels so right?

Please, sing me this eternal song,
Love we mustn't fight.

I'm staring up to the sky,
Life is passing me by,
the line between Hate and Love,
and it's thinning far too quickly.

I've seen the Heavens above,
And the burning Hell for the lowly.

Can you be my angel,

And let me fly?

Can you be my friend,
And never let me die?

Butterfly kisses,
Uncanny blesses,
Let me go away,

If not, I will betray.

We're destined to part,
you mustn't be so tart.
Separate lives we lead,
you and I are freed.

Love has let us go,
I hate you so,
don't come back to me,
Love set us free.
I'm a broken soul;
I'm destined to cry until I die.

You're a free spirit,
Tonight, I'll let you fly.

Hermione could feel her senses betray her. "What the…bloody hell?" She finally managed to croak out.

"I didn't copy you, I swear, I didn't."

"I know you didn't. I…I wrote 'But how can this be wrong, When it feels so right? Please, sing me this eternal song, Love we mustn't fight.' Because I thought…it really did suit how I thought. Obviously, it suited how you thought too. We just think…too alike. It's scary."

Glancing at each other one last time, they silently walked to the Great Hall together, and separated without a word to their respective tables. I'm indeed a coward; I can't even tell her I love her… Draco thought as he sat down, next to Blaise, and silently picked at his food.