Chapter 4: Lone Lioness

Everything about this year was different. Not necessarily wrong, just different. For once, Hermione was not comforted by warm hugs from the Weasleys at the platform, or Harry, berating her for not writing enough during the summer. Those days were gone. The trio were taking different paths in life, and Hermione was the lone wolf- or more accurately, lone lioness.

"Hermione." She turned at the sound of her name, to find Malfoy standing beside her. For a moment, she was startled. The Slytherin Prince had stooped his levels to converse with her. As Hermione glanced around she realised that there were only a handful of Slytherins who had returned.

I'm 'good' now, remember? He sneered. They don't want me. It was, perhaps, the most honest confession she'd ever heard; deeper than anything Harry or Ron would've shared with her that early on in their friendship. But despite herself, she couldn't toss aside seven years of hatred for such a simplicity. Pushing aside the overwhelming need to grasp his hand and shoot dirty glares at the Slytherins, she simply shrugged nonchalantly.

Never thought I'd see the day where I become the second best option. That wasn't entirely true. Yes, it was a first where Draco was concerned, but in general Hermione always placed second- well, aside from academics. In terms of friendship, she was never prioritised. Of course, she loved Harry and Ron, and they never intentionally hurt her, but they were each other's best friends, and Hermione felt as though she merely tagged along. She had never felt completely wanted.

The duo remained in silence, content that- to outsiders they looked alone- they knew that, to some degree, they had each other. She had gone insane, for she had never anticipated the day when she would find comfort in his presence.

We're crazy together if that's the case. Hermione glanced sidelong at him, intending to go unnoticed, only to find that he was gazing down at her fondly, and winked. Draco Malfoy winked at her! The world was ending.

There had been an unspoken agreement as they'd boarded the train, and the two found themselves sharing a cabin. Anytime Hermione glanced at the door, she found first years with their noses pressed to the glass, fascinated to find such an interesting pair. Eventually, she cast a spell to block them out, so that when they peered in there would be nothing more than empty seats.

A little privacy? Draco smirked, raising an eyebrow suggestively. She rolled her eyes, leaning back into the seat, folding her arms. Yes, they were using each other for company, but she had no intention of freely conversing with him, nor giving into his playful, teasing comments.
"Can we make a truce?" he broke the silence, and it took Hermione a moment to register whether he had spoken aloud, or through the bond.
"Continue."
"We have no one else, and it's going to be an awfully long year if we don't talk to each other." He pointed out, and for once she agreed.
Okay- She began, out of habit.
"Okay, that sounds reasonable." Hermione nodded.

For most of the journey, they remained in a comfortable silence, watching the country hills roll by. Well, Hermione was the one looking out the window, oblivious for once. Draco was watching her intently. How he had ever found her to be unattractive he would never know. Or maybe his view had changed as she had. Hermione's hair was still untameable, but it was almost as though she'd grown into it somehow. It could no longer be considered a massive bush, for it had grown longer; the weight dragging down some of the curls so that they fell nicely, framing her porcelain face, that was scattered with freckles. She had her chin propped up on one hand, and her lips were parted slightly. He noticed, pleased, that it was one of the few times he'd seen her out of uniform. There had only been a handful of times when they'd both gone to Hogsmeade on the same weekend, and even at that, their paths hadn't crossed very many times. But he thought, fondly, muggle clothing suited her. Her jeans clung to her tightly, but beyond that her figure was concealed by a baggy hoody. It was the perfect combination of cute and desirable. For a startling moment, he wondered whether she had heard all of that, because there wasn't the usual thumping in his temples, that came with the continuous effort to block out such thoughts.

Hermione kept her facial expressions indifferent and placate, but wanted nothing more than to smile at the thought that Draco found her attractive. If it weren't for the bond, it was still blatantly obvious that he was watching her, but to have heard the thoughts sent her stomach flipping, also making herself more conscience of the way she sat. When had she become so concerned with petty, feminine traits such as that? 'Since this is the first boy you've been around that you don't consider a brother,' the little nagging voice reminded her. In truth, she had never cared much for her appearance around the two boys, for there was no need to impress them. She peeked out the corner of her eye, to notice that he wasn't aware of her thoughts; too consumed by his own.

"So…" Draco coughed, "tell me something about you, that I don't already know." He didn't know where the request had come from. He had simply needed to start a conversation, to get his mind off how irresistible she looked, or how she had potentially heard such thoughts. As Hermione turned to face him, there was nothing to signify that she had, and he relaxed slightly. Hermione contemplated it for a moment. In a few short weeks, he almost knew everything- well, everything she'd been thinking about since.
"My parents don't know I exist." She stated, deciding that, that had been what she'd been shielding. Draco now understood her sense of loneliness, and guilt. At first, he had thought such emotions derived from Potter and the Weasel, but her parents…it explained everything. "I obliviated them before the war, and now they're somewhere in Australia." Draco could see tears welling in her eyes, and there was nothing he could say to change it. "Your turn." Hermione coughed, realising how close she had come to breaking down in front of him. Draco really didn't know what to tell her. 'I've been in love with you for the good part of a year now.' That would no doubt ruin their chance at friendship.
"I've never had a girlfriend." He stated. Not shy about it, not exactly proud either. Hermione's eyes went wide, and she gaped at him.
"But Pansy, and Astoria, and…" She began to protest.
"Flings," he shrugged, "at the time I'd been exclusive with them, but it wasn't anything serious. We never labelled it, and I didn't want to. I want to properly care about my first girlfriend, and both…well they were content with our agreement." He explained. He should've been embarrassed. He'd never told anyone that. His friends had known of course, but never belittled him for it, because Draco was still getting more action than them, and without the responsibility too. He wanted her to know that he wasn't heartless. "We should probably change into our robes…" Draco added, awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, as he realised that like him, Hermione wasn't offering any comment to his confession.

Hermione couldn't help but feel that everyone watched them. Draco and Hermione had found a spot at the end of the Gryffindor table, away from everyone else. Hermione had acknowledged the handful of Gryffindors that had returned, and while she knew that there was no bad blood between them, she couldn't bring herself to sit with them and leave Draco to fend for himself.

I'm not a child, I don't need a babysitter! He snapped, glaring at her, before bowing his head, almost ashamed. But thanks. He added. Their interactions must've been amusing, because for the entirety of the meal neither said a word; both exchanging facial expressions, and gestures- never words.