Hermione and Draco
The muggle world has never been the same again after the war. After the all out almost revelation of the wizarding world, a lot of muggles had to be obliviated. As a part of the response team assigned, Hermione Granger was sent to join.
And join, she did.
Only… it reminded her of what she did to her parents. And where they are now that the war was finished. Every night she wondered whether it would be alright to find them. Find them and undo the curse that separates them.
But it was her greatest fear that they would resent her for what she did… had to do.
Hermione sighed, emotions starting to swirl out of control again.
Annoyance. Hate. Anger. Fear. Self-pity. Despair. Love. Pain. Death….Silence.
Those were all her feelings. Under a mask of complete indestructible façade, she hides all those pain and misery. And the best part? No one notices.
Not while she smiles.
Not while life continues.
Not while everyone moves on.
No one notices.
And that is why he was so special. The small tormentor and the supposed deatheater. The ferret... Draco Malfoy.
He, who used to sneer at her.
He, who used to love playing her for a fool.
He, who never gave her nothing but hate.
Only he saw the cracks. Saw and exploited it yes, bringing her all those pain and sadness. All those taunts always threatening to bring tears in her eyes. And all those nights she cried herself to sleep thinking why, of all people, does it have to be him that saw through her.
But it was that and that was so. And life continues to move on.
And then gradually, she saw too.
The strange glint that gave him away.
All his emotions. All the feelings he was trying to bottle up. His pain, his sadness, his guilt and his tears. She wanted to tell him that she, too, knew. That as he saw her, she sees him.
But then it was all too late. The trial was set, the defense and prosecution ready to give their part. And he, as well as she, knew… nothing was going to come out of it.
It was three years before they met again on one of her team's assignment; trying to track down the lasts of Voldemort's sympathizers. He was there sitting down in one of seediest pub in muggle London. He was just there… nursing his watered down drink, looking so out of place with his impeccable clothes and bearing.
The magic crackled.
His and hers.
And then he looked up… and she knew.
The eyes are the window to one's soul, as they say.
He looked a bit different… more mature. The aura was less evil but still with a definite edge. But the spark…the spark was still the same.
And as he looked at her, she could see.
He could still see her.
And she saw him too.
And that was where it started.
Fin.
A/N: Hey guys! I'm back from the dead with this piece I call writing... Love it, hate it, crap? Tell me in the reviews~ Love you all! 3