Thank you everybody for all the lovely reviews and encouragement!
This second part is told through Hermione's POV. Enjoy!
Familiar
She recognizes him the second she sees him. He's familiar to her, and for some reason the words he says hurts her more than it probably should.
A boy.
With white blonde hair and dark grey eyes.
With an infectious laugh and a beautiful smile.
With a sense of humour and a kind spirit.
X
She recognizes him the second she sees him. She just doesn't know from where. It's like déjà vu.
His blonde hair is what catches her attention. He's standing at the front of the group, following closely behind one Professor McGonagall. She's half listening, half staring at the back of his head as they walk up the Grand Staircase. At one point he turns to snicker at something his friend says and she looks away quickly so as not to catch his gaze.
There's something oddly familiar about him, like she's seen him somewhere before. It's almost impossible, of course, because he's, well, a wizard and before a couple of weeks ago she didn't even know magic actually existed. [She dreamed about it of course, like many children her age.] And unless she saw him in Diagon Alley while she was shopping for her school supplies, which she's positive she would remember anyway, she really has no reason to recognize him.
Professor McGonagall stops them and tells them to wait here before disappearing into what she knows is the Great Hall – she's only read about it in Hogwarts: A History a hundred times, and memorized the map.
Everyone is quiet. Shy.
And then he – the blonde boy – approaches the famous Harry Potter (the very one everyone had been talking about on the train.) He comments on the fact that the raven haired boy is famous, insults his redheaded friend Weasley-something, and then introduces himself all in the same breath. Draco Malfoy. [He says it like it means something. He's smug and arrogant and cocky.]
There's no way she can possibly know him, she decides. She'd never be friends with someone that rude.
X
A playground.
A swing set.
The wind blowing in her hair as she swings back and forth.
A pair of hands pushing her. Giving her air.
Giving her life.
A giggle.
A smirk from the boy behind her. "See? I told you, it's just like flying."
"And how would you know what flying is like?"
"That's a secret."
"I can keep a secret."
X
"Mudblood."
His voice is so full of hate and disgust. And even if it wasn't, the sneer on his face says it all anyway.
Tears gather in her eyes at the degrading name he's just called her, one she'd only read in books before. She knows what it means, what it stands for. She knows how hateful and disgusting it is. She knew, before-hand, that she might have been called such a thing at one point or another, and she'd prepared herself for when someone did say it. And yet somehow she wasn't at all prepared for it.
Nor was she prepared for the amount of pain she felt afterwards.
She still has that feeling that she knows him from somewhere, and perhaps that's why it affects her more than it probably should.
X
"Leave her alone."
His voice is strong and authoritative; like no other five year old she's ever known.
The two boys making fun of her stop.
"Leave."
They think she's a freak.
"Now."
They leave in a hurry.
She sniffs back tears.
"They're just prats, Granger. Don't listen to them."
"They're right..."
"You're not a freak... You're just special."
X
"Granger."
She ignores him. And yet that name – her last name, on his lips – sounds so familiar. Like she's heard it before. She has, of course, every day since second year when he started calling her by her last name, just as he does with Harry and Ron. It separates her (them) from the rest of their peers, the way he uses their names; the way they use his. Like they're either not good enough or just too good for first names. It separates enemies from friends. Like an insult.
And yet the voice she hears in her head (and swears is real) is smooth and soft and friendly.
"Granger."
Finally, she snaps. She spins around in her chair, glaring daggers at the blonde haired, grey eyed boy. "What, Malfoy?!"
He smirks, insults her hair and then walks away.
X
An ice rink.
A boy who can't skate, to save his own life.
A girl, so talented and free, pulling him along by his arms. He holds on for dear life.
"What are you trying to do? Kill me?"
"Of course not, silly. What good would that do?"
"This is payback, isn't it? Because I made you get on that swing last summer."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
A scowl.
A laugh.
"I'm gonna let go, okay-"
"No! Not okay, don't you dare let..."
A smooth glide.
A steady stop.
"I did it..."
"I told you, there's nothing to it."
"We make a good team."
X
She looks across the table at her partner. He's hard at work, concentrating on the potions equation in front of him. They're both at the top of the class, partnered up based on their equal abilities. They're like fire and ice, him and her, and yet they make an exceptional team. They're both driven and hard-working. Their bickering and insults and threats, and the fact that they both want to be the best even if it means out-doing the other works well for them.
They've got a sort of…chemistry. And it puzzles her, because she doesn't understand how they can loathe one another, have nothing in common, and yet still work well together. And it feels...it feels right.
It feels normal.
It feels familiar to her…like they'd worked together before. Before Hogwarts, that is.
Which is impossible. [Her mum says it's a figment of her imagination.]
After two weeks of working together they receive a perfect grade on their lab assignment. And as she collects her belongings at the end of class, she notices that he lingers in the doorway. "What?" she asks.
"We make a good team."
X
A loud CRACK.
A sonic BOOM.
A terrified squeal.
"You're not afraid of thunder, are you?"
"A little... It's perfectly logical, you know. There's a name for it and everything."
A chuckle. "I'm sure there is."
A whimper.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you."
X
A hand curls around her wrist and she lets out a terrified squeal as she's yanked forcefully into an alcove. Her assailant pushes her against the wall and she struggles, trying to fight him off. He's stronger. He grunts when she knees him in the thigh, before pressing his body against hers to still her and pushing his leg between hers. Trapping her.
For a moment she thinks he might rape her.
"I'm not gonna hurt you."
She recognizes the voice immediately, from that of Draco Malfoy. But it isn't his usually cocky, smug, hateful voice. This one's more soft, smooth...familiar. He's never spoken to her like this and yet she could swear she's heard it before. "Malfoy…what do you want?"
"S-something's happening, tomorrow, Granger. Something bad." He sounds desperate.
She sort of feels bad for him. Worried. Concerned, mostly. "What's happening?"
"I can't tell you. Just...protect yourself. Protect your friends."
That's all he says before he leaves her alone with her thoughts.
X
Muddy shoes.
Scraped knees.
Orange and red and yellow leaves.
"I can't see you anymore."
"W-what? Why? Did I do something wrong?"
"No, you didn't do anything wrong. I did."
"What'd you do?"
"I...I can't tell you. It's just...my father, he-"
"Doesn't like girls."
"Maybe we could talk to him? Maybe then he'd like me."
"He won't. I'm sorry."
"I wanted to keep you forever."
"Me too."
X
Obliviate