First one-shot! I'm obsessed with Dramione, they are probably my favourite pairing. Upon hearing J.K. Rowling mention tha Draco had had romantic feelings for her but could never show them, I had to write something. Please R&R! Ciao :D
Hermione lay on her bunk, still in her Muggle jeans and sweatshirt. She hadn't bothered to change. She was too sad.
But it wasn't for the obvious. It wasn't for the fact she forced herself to erase her beloved parents memories of her, it wasn't for the fact that Ron had stormed away from her and Harry, it wasn't even for the fact that she had to drop out of Hogwarts and having to cope with the dreadful thought of missing so many classes. She lay on the bunk, letting her unsettled mind wander to a dark mansion far from the place she was hiding; where a tall boy with white hair and pale skin sat in his armchair, tears dripping down his tired face.
Draco sat unsettled in his armchair by the fire. He was silent as several tears dropped from the edge of his jawline onto the red fabric of the chair. He did not turn his head as his mother uneasily stepped into the room.
"Draco, it's time to go." Narcissa whispered, avoiding looking in his direction. She knew he was crying, but she did not want to see it.
"Give me some time, Mother?" He asked, his voice unwavering as he stared hard into the fire.
"Yes, dearest." Narcissa turned and closed the door. As it clicked shut, Draco let out a heavy-hearted sob. Narcissa leaned against the door and clutched her chest as she herself tried with all her might to refrain from shedding tears.
Draco sobbed quietly into the heel of his hand, baring his teeth as his arm had a splitting pain run from the skull and snake symbol that was imprinted into his skin. But that wasn't the true source of his misery. It wasn't that, his father's wrath, his mother's pain, or all the pain he'd caused. His mind lay focused upon the image of a pretty girl with brown hair and brown eyes, her smile and laugh danced around his brain; taunting, teasing, torturing his soul to the very core.
There was one moment in time when Draco had first felt something for her. It hadn't taken much, it was a funny sort of thing. She'd run up to him as he and his friends spied on Hagrid and his hippogriff that had attacked him, waiting for his execution. He heard her scream "You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!" and jam her wand into his neck, forcing him up against the stone wall. He was afraid, but as he stared at her, the hard, raging blaze in her brown eyes; he felt his stomach tense. His friends stood around, equally afraid. He barely noticed, only focused on her.
Outwardly, he was a sniveling coward; inwardly, he was examining her hair - it was more well-managed, didn't stick out in odd direction, her eyes - the intensity in her face made the brown of her irises almost, glow, and her face - her skin was flawless, her teeth straight, everything about her was in perfect proportion. When she finally let him off the wall, he laughed; half our of image and half out of nervousness. But then she slugged him one. He'd told his friends to keep that day quiet. But in his mind, he'd never stopped replaying it.
The was one moment in her mind where she had first felt something for him. She couldn't understand what had brought it on. It just happened. The Yule Ball should have been happy. Stupid Ron's jealousy of Viktor had ruined it. "He's way too old for you." Ron had told her, her rage undefined.
"Next time pluck up the courage to ask me, instead of as a last resort!" she'd screamed at him and run off. She'd sat down and begun crying on the steps at the farthest corner of the room. She hadn't even noticed he was nearby.
She looked up and saw him. He was standing with his friends and Pansy Parkinson, his date. But as they talked, he wasn't. He wasn't even looking at them. His eyes were trained on her. She didn't understand it. He turned to his friends, said something to allow him to leave unsuspected, and made his way over to her. She automatically assumed he was coming over to mock her and call her a mudblood, so her defenses were up before he stood in front of her.
"Go on, laugh at me, say what you want! I don't give a bloody damn, Malfoy." Hermione growled at him. He stood there. She looked at his face. It was filled with a mixture of pity, concern, and something indescribable.
He whispered softly "You look too pretty to cry tonight, Granger." And he reached into his pocket. What he had would still send her into a emotionally confounded flurry to this day. He held in his hand torn corsage, made of a single, delicate pale pink rose, set on a white ribbon. "Pansy didn't like it much, maybe you can appreciate it." He held his hand out and she gingerly raised hers. He gently took it and placed the corsage in it; allowing his cool, smooth fingers to linger there for a moment, before gently curling her hand around it and turning away. Stunned and incredulous, she looked down and took in the gift of kindness.
"Malfoy!" she called out, raising her head. But he was gone. He'd disappeared into the crowd. She clutched the rose to her chest in both hands and smiled softly, breathing out the hurt. And in that moment, she felt her stomach tense in her abdomen.
The moment they'd had were small, almost insignificant to the naked eye. But to them, they were the building blocks of the chemistry that was becoming palpable between them.
In fourth year, Draco had stood on the dock when Viktor had rescued her from the Black Lake, looking on eagerly. She'd turned to him when she was being wrapped in blankets and given him a small, reassuring smile and nod.
In fifth year, Draco had caught Hermione sneaking away from the area near the Room of Requirement. When Goyle came up to them, he pretended to be interrogating her, but as he left, he told her to leave quickly before he did reprimand her.
In sixth year, Filch caught Draco skulking around outside Slughorn's Christmas party, before Snape had spoken for him, Hermione had tried to convince him that she'd invited Draco as a date. It would have worked if Cormac McClaggen hadn't reappeared. Draco was led away, but not before Draco got one swing in on the slimeball.
Again in sixth year, Draco had exited the girl's bathroom after crying for several hours. Hermione, on her way back from the library, bumped into him as he left. Seeing him cry, she felt compassionate and sorry for him.
"Draco, what's happened?" she asked.
"Why do you care mudblood? Bugger off!" he cried angrily. She was taken aback by his rudeness and tried to slap him. He stopped her hand, placing it on his cheek. "I'm sorry." He whispered, voice trembling and hands shaking. She felt the twinge again. She drew him into her shoulder, he fell right into her, much to her shock. He sobbed for a while, arms tightly wrapped around her waist; she stroked his hair with her book-free hand, just shh-ing him quietly.
When all was said and done, he raised his head and muttered "Thank you, Granger." And what he did next shocked even him. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Maybe you're not so bad after all." And with that, he turned back and ran from her.
The defining moment of what some would call "the start" was in Hermione's sanctuary. She'd been hiding between the stacks of books, delving into the latest issue of "Hogwarts: A History" after another gut-wrenching encounter seeing Lavender and Ron snogging in the corridor by the Fat Lady portrait. There was no way she would be walking past that to go inside, so she turned and went to the library instead. She angrily turned the pages, attempting to read the thoughts away. Before long, she got fed up, put the book back and went to another section. As she scanned the spines for something to read, she heard the clunk of a book being put back. She stopped and looked left, and he was there. Draco stood on the other side of the intersection of stacks, in the reference section. Why he was there, she didn't know. She almost didn't care.
When he approached her, her usual defenses sprung up and she attempted to shove him away. He knew she would do that, so he grabbed her wrists. Her face read panic, but once she noticed he barely gripped, she seemed to relax. He looked at her left hand; delicate, small, riddled with the scars left by paper and parchment over the years. She kept looking at him, wondering what the blazes he was doing. He turned back to look at her, released her right hand and lowered her left, and interlocked his fingers with hers. He felt the fire in his belly ignite once again. He raised his free hand to her cheek, lightly touching the soft, pale flesh.
She shuddered, her stomach turning and burning, and turned her head towards his hand, brushing her lips against his thumb. She turned her eyes back to his, his grey eyes were locked in hers. He rubbed her cheek, pushed her hair away, and placed his hand on the back of her neck. He gave into his long sustained urge and stepped forward. She easily gave in. But, just as their lips were touching, a familiar voice called her name.
"Mione! Are you in here?" Harry's voice echoed in the library, followed by an audible "SHH!" from Madame Pince. Hermione and Draco held their position, hands clasp, lips millimetres from locking. Hermione let out a disappointed sigh as Draco's eyes turned down. She released his hand and turned to go. Before she reached the end of the aisle, she turned back. He looked at her, locking the gaze. She gave a smile and he returned it, hands in his pockets. She turned and kept walking.
But, sometimes all good things come to an end. Their "end" came at the moment of Dumbledore's death. After Snape had killed him and Draco was being led down the tower stairs, they encountered each other at the bottom of the stairs. Snape had let him go for a moment, as the Carrows and his aunt Bellatrix were trying to get Snape out. He stood before her, tears in their eyes and pain in their hearts, he said but one thing to her.
"I'm sorry." He wrapped and arm around her waist, pulled her close and for the first, and possibly last time, he kissed her hard. She hesitated a moment before kissing him back. She took his face in her hands and held him there a moment longer, before he broke away and was dragged off by Yaxley without so much as a goodbye. Hermione's heart broke that night, part in the death of Dumbledore, part in her leaving Hogwarts before graduation; but mostly, her heart broke for the boy that had been taking her heart, piece by piece since that night in fourth year.
Now the two were far apart, but they both had one desire on this night. To see the other's face one more time. Draco stood from the armchair and walked to the tall window that looked out into the forest and mountains. The moon was glowing and full tonight, it looked close enough to touch. As he leaned against the window frame and looked up at the moon, he thought of her and whispered her name.
Hermione.
She sat forward, the sound of her name being called filled the air. She looked to Harry, who remained fitfully sleeping across the tent. Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she left the tent and walked out onto the hill. She saw the forest, the water, and the mountains; but she drew her eyes up to the moon. She felt his presences there with her, but she knew he wasn't really. She closed her eyes and pictured him again, breathing out his name.
Draco.
He heard it and smiled. "I promise, I'll find you again. I will make this better, Hermione. I will make this better."
She couldn't hear his words, but she felt herself smiling. "I will wait for the moment we can be together again, Draco. I will wait for that moment..."
A/N: I own none of the characters mentioned above. This is the sole property of J.K. Rowling and I have only used this material for creative reasoning and fandom.