A/N: 4 chapters on this one. Stopped writing it because someone was incredibly rude that I'd mixed up Underground stations and stops. I changed them to HP based names so now, no one can tell me there's no Underground stop at Godric's Hollow because obviously I know that. Trigger warning: abuse.

24 Minutes Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy put his head back against the dingy cloth seat of the Underground tube. The term at Hogwarts College London had just started and the exhaustion was already bone-deep. He had taken the bartending position at Bliley's Pub to put some money in his pocket, but even finishing the earlier shift at ten, he was nearly comatose. Between the curriculum, football and Bliley's, he felt as though he didn't have five minutes to himself to think anymore.

The quality of individuals riding the tube at this time of night was diverse—students commuting home, late commuters, older individuals whose idea of a 'night on the town' ended before midnight and a few wayward individuals he couldn't place. He was beginning to think he really needed an auto of his own.

Draco watched as a few drunken people his own age stumbled on and rolled his eyes. To have such a carefree life, such stamina. He plugged his ears with his headphones and turned up the music, drowning out their idiocy. The last of the stragglers were getting positioned and the doors were beginning to close when she stepped on.

She slipped through the doors right before they closed, barely managing to get her skirt into the car before they did. The car wasn't busy at this time of night—it was after the typical commuting time and before the midnight rush, so she headed for an empty seat across from him.

The girl was an absolute angel. Her hair was the first thing he noticed—it was voluminous and curly, a wild edge to it as she scooped up a handful and pushed it absently away from her face. Her face was heart-shaped with a dainty chin and cheekbones, framed by the exquisite chestnut colored locks. Her eyes were large and innocent, darker than her hair but still light enough to be more than just brown. Maybe hazel? Her lips were turned down in a perfect rosy pout, her bottom lip full as she tucked it into her teeth. Her skin was glowing, not quite tan but not pasty—just the right shade for her. She was wearing a powder blue dress underneath a white button-down shirt, the bottom of which was tied at her navel over the dress; feminine white trainers adorned her feet. Draco raised an eyebrow as he surveyed her thin, handmade braided red and gold anklet.

He had never seen someone so breathtaking in the entirety of his twenty years. Draco was suddenly wide awake, his eyes trained on the beauty before him. He knew he shouldn't stare but found he couldn't look away. He watched as she put her headphones into her ears just as he had and pulled a book out from her bag. Geothe's Faust. He raised an eyebrow at her. She must attend the nearby college. He noted how quickly her eyes scanned over the words and he allowed the lulling of the tube to settle his pattering heart.

She smoothed her dress and stared at her book as the drunken blokes eyed her over. Draco was certain the girl must have been aware of their lewd comments—he could hear it over his own music and he was across the car. He saw her adjust the volume on her mobile and she tucked her legs up underneath of her, pulling the flowing skirt over them to create a blanket. She could definitely hear them—they'd been discussing her "sexy stems."

The girl had a stoic, unwavering look on her face, defiant and no nonsense. She was refusing to acknowledge them. Her resilience made Draco smile to himself. He watched from the corner of his eye as one of the men moved to sit next to her. She pulled her legs out from underneath her, moving to get as close to the wall and as far from him as possible.

Draco narrowed his eyes as he, now openly, watched the man scoot even closer to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. The girl tried to shrug him off, but the man pulled her head toward his lips, kissing her temple. His two friends—one now passed out, the other dazed and paying them little mind—offered the girl no help. She pushed him away, but the man was persistent.

Draco snapped the headphones out of his ears. "Mate, I think she wants to be left alone."

The prick, his eyes hooded with inebriation, trained his gaze in Draco's general direction. "I don't believe anyone asked you."

"No, but I believe she asked you to back off," Draco told him, standing now.

He looked around—everyone else was minding their own business, sitting or standing in their own private worlds. Only Draco seemed to be aware of the girls' plight. The intoxicated man stood, wobbling slightly and sized Draco up. His heart began beating heavily at that point—Draco wasn't one for brawling most of the time, but he also wasn't one to back down from a fight, either. The last fight he'd been in, he'd walked away with a swollen eye and a hole in his cheek. The other guy was left unconscious. He balled his fists by his sides and the man stumbled toward him.

The first shove, admittedly, knocked the wind out of Draco's lungs. But he knocked a good punch against the man's jaw. The man righted himself and then tackled Draco to the floor of the car. At that point, he saw blinding white and went into full savage mode. He pushed back, knocking the bloke onto his back, smacking his head against the seats on the far side. Draco landed three more good punches as the guy tried, unsuccessfully, to choke him. The one conscious friend dragged him off of his friend and Draco licked the blood from his lip as he rocked back onto his haunches.

The underground train shuddered to a stop and the girl stood and swept out of the car at the Godric's Hollow Station faster than he could comprehend. He stood and grabbed his own things quickly before rushing out onto the station platform. He looked for the powder blue dress and caught sight of the bottom of it disappearing up the stairs leading up to the Godric's Hollow neighborhood.

Draco shoved past the small crowd separating them and ran after her. When he ascended the stairs and stepped out onto the street above, he looked every which way for her. She was crossing at the next crosswalk. Draco's ribcage was sore from the drunken idiot's tackle, but his long legs carried him quickly to her. Not wanting to scare her by grabbing her from behind, especially after she was practically molested by an arsehole only minutes before, he ran ahead of her.

He turned around to face her, jogging backward as she walked forward. She narrowed her eyes at him and tugged one headphone from her ear. "Can I help you?" she asked, her tone biting.

"Is that your idea of a 'thank you?'" he asked, an amused smirk spreading across his face.

She gave him a look as though he were a petulant child. "You think I should thank you for that display back there? Fighting like barbarians?"

Her tone was sarcastic and bitchy, her eyes fiery and alight. He continued walking backward as she trod forward. "Well, it was difficult for him to continue assaulting you while he was assaulting me."

"I can handle my own," was her response.

Draco snorted. "Yeah. You were doing a smash up job of it."

The girl stopped walking in her path and put a hand on her hip. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Can I have your number? I think valiantly saving you from him is enough to earn me…say lunch one day?" he asked her, giving her his most charming smile.

"You're awfully sure of yourself," she retorted, attempting to move around him.

"When I see something I like."

"Tell me how you're any different than that bloke on the tube? You're just as aggressive," she told him, a slight tug at the corner of her mouth.

"I'm twice as charming. And devilishly good-looking. I would so make it worth your while," Draco shrugged, turning up the sex appeal by running a hand through his hair.

"And I'm seeing someone," she admitted.

Draco, not paying attention to where he was going, backed into a street lamp. With a wince, he tried very little to hide his disappointment. She finally stepped around him and he turned to watch her go. "Can I at least know your name?" he asked loudly after her.

Without turning around, the girl put her headphone back in. "Hermione," she called over her shoulder.

Draco watched her sashay away from him, biting his fist to keep from groaning at how bloody gorgeous this girl was. Of course she was taken—what man wouldn't want to worship that goddess, day in and day out, night after night?

He began walking in the opposite direction, heading to his own flat. Cars, buses and a few late-night stragglers on bike or foot passed him, but he paid very little attention to any of it. He licked at his top lip—not really swollen but cut, the blood dry. He hadn't necessarily picked a fight with the man, merely wanted him away from the girl. Hermione. What a splendid name. Exotic. Beautiful. Just like the girl.

He jogged up the stairs leading to his flat, struggling with getting his key into the door as he thought of the girl. "Hermione. Her-miii-o-neee," he said aloud, entering his dark and empty home.

How he so enjoyed the way the sultry sounding name rolled off his tongue. Like the girl herself—so sultry and blistering hot in the warm late-summer night. Draco tore his button-down and jeans off, replacing them with a Manchester United shirt and lounge bottoms. He flipped on the television for background, tuning it to the late-night news. He peeked in the mirror—the other bloke definitely looked worse for the wear. Besides the small cut on his lip and the wincing jab in his ribcage, Draco was otherwise unscathed. He ran a hand through his hair, but thought of her hair, those lusciously abundant curls.

What the hell was wrong with him? Like he hadn't ever seen an attractive girl before. He tried to shake the thoughts of the beauty from his head and laid in his bed. He watched the newsman speaking about one thing or another, his mind still wandering back to her no matter how hard he fought it.

Draco tried, he really did. But all he could think about was those perfectly pouty lips on his own. Running his fingertips over those long legs, starting at that god-forsaken red and gold anklet and heading under that pretty powder blue dress. The feel of his fingers laced through her mass of curls. Sweet Lord, have mercy. Draco had fallen hard for a girl he'd only seen once.

How could a twenty-four-minute Underground ride change his life so irreparably?

o-o-o