Draco and Hermione stand on opposite sides of a war. In fact, Draco's life depends on killing and torturing people like her. However, during one grueling year at Hogwarts they find that they aren't as different as they once believed.
Hi friends! This is my very first time writing Dramione fanfiction and I am very excited. I will be switching between Draco and Hermione in the first person. The story will go from sixth year to the end of the war. Please let me know what you think. Enjoy!
I had to write an essay for potions, study for my transfiguration exam, and read an entire book for my history of magic class before tomorrow morning. If I didn't, my grades would surely take a teetering turn right off of a cliff. But I also had to fix the vanishing cabinet. And I had to kill Dumbledore. I only had a few months left for these particular tasks, and instead of my grades, my mother would be the one to suffer if I failed.
I wasn't sleeping. I was rarely seen in the Great Hall for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I was rarely even seen in the Slytherin dormitories. If I wasn't in class, I was either in the library studying or in the Room of Hidden Things staring at a broken cabinet trying not to pull my hair out. And sometimes, when I could muster the emotional energy, I would consider the task of killing the headmaster. My life felt like it was crumbling, and the funny thing was that I didn't even care. If it was just me, I would run from Voldemort, or maybe even just let him kill me. But it wasn't just me, it was my mother, too. If I failed, she would be tortured until she was worse than dead. I couldn't let that happen, I would never forgive myself.
One evening, the crumbling pieces of my being broke into a million more pieces. I didn't think I could be any more broken, but the world had to laugh and prove me wrong. I was one floor below the Room of Requirement when I collapsed on the ground, my fists clinging to my hair as if one of the strands might just save me. I began to hyperventilate, it was just all too much. I couldn't do it. I didn't know how to fix this damn cabinet, and if I was being honest, I wasn't even sure that I wanted to.
It's not that I didn't believe in the things that my family had taught me. I didn't like mudbloods, I despised the fact that the bloodlines of the wizarding world were being dirtied. However, letting death eaters into a school just seemed wrong…but instead of getting to business I am leaning against a wall weeping. Great, just great.
I had just finished my charms homework in the library and I was heading back to the Gryffindor common room. There was a skip to my step and a smile on my face. I felt accomplished, I had finished all of my schoolwork for the week which meant that I could start reading ahead in the morning. Lost in a cheerful daze, I was startled to hear someone crying. No, not just crying, but openly sobbing. Wondering what was going on, I turned down the corridor and cautiously headed towards the noise.
"Malfoy?"
I gasped his name audibly and immediately regretted it. I had just been so shocked to see him, of all people, crying. Draco Malfoy doesn't cry! Does he?
I expected Draco to jump up and try to hex me, but instead he just looked up at me. He looked broken, so utterly broken. I almost felt bad for him, a part of me wished I could take away whatever pain he was feeling.
"Are you okay?" I asked cautiously. He looked surprised, like he was expecting me to mock him.
"I'm fine," he said sternly, standing up and turning to walk away. He had put his wall back up, I wasn't allowed to see him feel.
"Umm..okay. Goodnight, Malfoy…" I muttered awkwardly, before turning in the opposite direction, back to the Gryffindor common room.
When I arrived, Harry and Ron were waiting for me. We spent a few hours talking and playing games, but the look on Malfoy's face never left my mind. What could he possibly going through that caused him of all people to cry in the middle of a corridor? It just didn't seem right.