Enjoy.

I starred at the sky, my arms leaning against the cold granite of my balcony. The wind whisked all around.

Swoosh, swish, shhh ... What was it trying to say?

My gaze stayed intent on the stars, twinkling with all their might to keep the darkness away. I heard footsteps behind me and I caught my breath; I suddenly felt thrilled. As quickly as I whipped around, my enthusiasm faded.

"Good evening, Draco."

I turned back to the beautiful site behind me. Every star reminded me of her. Dazzling, beautiful, breath-taking. She kept the darkness out of my heart. The star of my life, the apple of my eye; corny, isn't it? No, ironic is a better term.

"Good evening, mother."

She walked up to me and draped an arm around my shoulders, shielding me from the chilly night.

"It's a nice view tonight, isn't it."

It wasn't a question, more like a statement. Even so, I nodded; it was very beautiful.

"What's bothering you, Draco? You look peculiar."

Thanks, mother, for pointing out the obvious, but really, the statement is appreciated.

I heaved a sigh, "I'd rather not speak of it, mother."

She smiled down at me, I felt it, "What ever is bothering you, Draco, I know you will find a way to resolve it," she gave my shoulders the slightest tug, "Sleep well."

The chilly wind revisited me not too long after my mother left. Four hours, eight-teen minutes; it had been that long since she'd left. I don't know what had come over me.

I wanted her.

I hated her.

I wanted her.

I hated her.

I wanted -

I can't bear this pain.

It clicked; suddenly, it made little sense, but something clicked in my mind. Did I hate her? Was it as Luna Lovegood had said to me so long ago? I was gone even before my thoughts were completed.

For the first time in my life, I, Draco Malfoy, acted on emotions.

I felt a nudge.

Another.

And another.

"What in the - ?!"

It took a while for my mind to register the scene: Draco Malfoy in my bed chamber and looked horribly distressed. He must have sensed my awkwardity because he semi-smirked; that alone meant something was terribly off.

"Hello, to you, too," he spoke.

His voice was enchanting, even if it was near midnight. I could barely see any part of his face, or any part of him, but his eyes stuck out so very much. Eyes. The key to a person's soul, as they say. When I looked into his eyes, I saw sadness, confusion, and anxiety. I had an urge to reach out to him, to calm him, to soothe him; I couldn't.

"May I," he hesitated, "speak with you?"

I muttered an 'of course' and yawned. I felt the bed shift in weight; he got on the bed.

"I never agreed to this, Draco, now get off; what are you even planning?"

He laid perfectly still, starring into my eyes; I forever regretted what I had just said. With his solemn attitude, I wanted to just take his troubles away, and if he needed a bed to sleep in tonight, then so be it. He scooted closer to me, blindly taking hold of my hands in his, and I felt rather uncomfortable. We lay there, face to face, my hands in his, as I stared into his eyes the same way he stared into mine for minutes. He released my hands and scooted closer; comfort. Was it comfort he wanted? I opened my arms for him and he rested under my chin near the crook of my neck, breathing down onto my collar bone ever so lightly. Gremlins, this felt awkward. His arms were around my waist as I hesitated to wrap mine around his shoulders. I inhaled the scent of his hair, sweet nectarines, I thought to myself.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

He distanced himself from me once again and stared at me.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Wh-What? Why are you apologizing? What is the meaning of all this?"

He spoke softly, "I know we're not the ideal couple in all the four kingdoms. I know our kingdoms have bared hatred against one another for centuries."

I did not question him, I only listened to his words.

"I'm supposed to hate you, not because you are from Gryffindor, but because you are not a pure blood. I'm supposed to stay away from you, not to associate with you. I grew up with the mindset that your kind is impure."

This was beginning to get on my nerves, but I let him continue. He brought his hand up to stroke my cheeks; I felt an urge to move closer. I placed a hand upon his, and leaned into his touch. He pulled me into an embrace and it was my turn to lean into him. He stroked my hair, and I felt his breath on my hair.

"I've never held a woman so carefully before," he embraced me tighter, "I've only gone so far with them, but I never showed them any affection."

I relaxed in his embrace, it felt perfect, right, correct.

"Hermione," I looked up at him, "Right now, right this moment, this marriage feels right."

I blushed ten different shades of red; what did he just say? I stared at him, completely shocked.

"I know it may sound odd, especially since I'm saying it, but really," he kissed the top of my forehead and lingered, "I've never felt such a strong tie with any other woman before."

Was I thrilled? I couldn't tell, I couldn't feel anything but oddly, I knew I was comfortable. It was comfortable being in his arms, it was comfortable to be near him.

We stayed together through the night, his arms around me, my body against his. We did nothing, but that night, I felt perfection.

Thanks for reading.