Have you ever taken a walk through an exceptionally large castle after dark with your former worst enemy? I hope you haven't had to suffer through the aforementioned situation because, trust me, it's awkward. You don't know if you should speak, and if you are, what you're supposed to say. 'Have you liked the weather?' No, it's been rainy and cold and overall depressing. It was as if Merlin himself based this month's weather on the emotions of Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.
The walk from the fourth floor all the way to the Gryffindor Tower—whose entrance was on the seventh floor, and the walk up the tower was at least 7 flights—was indeed, for lack of a more descriptive adjective, awkward.
Draco had made it clear that he believed Hermione should stay away from him. "I'll ruin your reputation." After analyzing those very words in her mind, Hermione realized something—he cares. He cares enough to warn her. She had originally assumed that was all of his self hatred and being held in Azkaban with the dementors was talking. But no, he cares about her.
"He cares." Hermione inadvertently mumbled, still lost in her thoughts.
"Who cares, Granger?" Inquired Draco attempting to ignore the subtle scent of vanilla and pumpkin wafting off of Hermione.
"Oh, um, um, it's nothing to worry about," stuttered Hermione not wanting to ruin her chances of actually being friends with Draco Malfoy. The Malfoys, famous for being one of the most prejudiced, pure blood families in all of Wizarding London, the whole world maybe.
Maybe they could even more than friends. Hermione wasn't blind, and if asked to use muggle terminology, she just might describe him as, and I quote, 'eye candy,' or maybe just a simple 'yum.' She knew that if everything with the war and aftermath wasn't going on, every girl in Hogwarts would be throwing herself at Draco. He was the full package, smart and handsome. He was probably the only other person in their year she could relate to intellectually. But there was still one problem, prejudice—or should I say, faux prejudices to keep up an act that's been played for the past year or two. I say for the past year or so because since he was around sixteen, Draco had been questioning his views. Pureblood supremacy, mudbloods, squibs, muggles, purebloods. It was then when he realized that they weren't all that different. People's blood doesn't matter.
Authors note: here you go complete with a bad cliffhanger and everything. Finished at 3:29 am. I hope you don't hate it.
-E.K. Jane