Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the world of Harry Potter. They belong to J.K. Rowling.
Author's Note: Hi, everyone! This is my first time writing a fanfiction, so I'm a little nervous, but I truly hope you'll enjoy it! I'll admit that love doesn't develop quickly in this story—that's the beauty of a slow-burn Dramione, isn't it? I'm so excited to share this journey with you. Now, let me take you into the magical world of Harry Potter! (P.S. Please don't forget to leave a review!)
PART 1
Oh, for heaven's sake.
Hermione Granger was losing a war against a bookshelf.
Her target—Practical Charms for Everyday Catastrophes—was perched on the very top shelf of the library, mocking her from above. Hermione had tried tiptoeing, stretching, and even a particularly ambitious jump that left her feeling ridiculous. But she refused to give up.
She needed that book. Last year, it had been her lifeline during exams at Hogwarts. The first year, though harrowing, had ultimately been rewarding: surviving a mountain troll, breaking at least a hundred school rules, narrowly avoiding death, and—her personal nightmare—almost being expelled. It was enough to make anyone vow never to be caught off guard again. Hermione had sworn she'd be ready for both exams and the inevitable chaos that seemed to follow her at Hogwarts.
If not for Harry and Ron, though, her first year might have ended in disaster.
But this year had started off strangely. She hadn't seen Harry or Ron anywhere—not even on the Hogwarts Express. They'd promised to meet and sit together again, but when she boarded the train, her compartment was empty. Anxiety had gnawed at her the entire journey, and now that she was back at Hogwarts—her second home—her worry had only deepened.
It didn't feel like home without them.
With no one to talk to in her dormitory, Hermione had done the only thing she could think of: gone to the library. If her friends weren't here yet, she'd use the time to study and get a head start on the year. But even in her favorite sanctuary, things weren't going smoothly.
Because, of course, the book she wanted was perched just out of reach. She huffed, bracing herself for another jump, when a familiar drawl slithered into her ears.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't Granger—Hogwarts' brightest witch, jumping for books like a house elf."
Hermione groaned. Of all the people who could have walked into the library, why did it have to be him? She turned slowly to find Draco Malfoy standing there, leaning against the bookshelf with all the smugness of someone who thought the world revolved around his perfect blond head.
"What do you want, Malfoy," she snapped, turning back to the shelf.
He ignored her. "What's so important up there? 'The Beginner's Guide to Spells'? Or is it Alienation of Modern Wizards'?"
"It's called mind your own business," she shot back, crossing her arms.
Malfoy smirked, his gray eyes gleaming with mischief. "I'll take that as a plea for help. I am taller than you, after all."
Hermione froze, her lips parting in disbelief. Did this mean—surely not—was he actually going to help her? She awkwardly glanced up at him, her brows furrowing.
"It's the one on the very left, if you must know," she said, her voice laced with suspicion.
Without waiting for a proper invitation, Malfoy reached up—effortlessly, of course—and plucked the book from the shelf.
"Practical Charms for Everyday Catastrophes," he read aloud, his tone dripping with mockery.
"Well—thank you," Hermione muttered grudgingly, holding out her hand to take the book. Her gut warned her that this sudden kindness came with strings attached.
Malfoy's lips curled into a sly grin, the kind that made her stomach twist unpleasantly.
"Oh, you're welcome, Granger," he said, his voice practically oozing smugness. "And thanks for letting me know exactly which one you wanted."
"Just give it here," she said, reaching for the book.
He held it just out of her grasp, his smirk widening. "You know, I should charge you for this kind of service. Maybe five Galleons? Or—no, wait—ten, since you're desperate."
"Desperate?" Hermione repeated, her voice rising. "I am not desperate!"
"Could've fooled me," he said, tossing the book lightly from hand to hand as if it were a Quaffle. "You were practically doing gymnastics for it. Honestly, Granger, ever heard of a wand? Or do Gryffindors think climbing furniture is more noble?"
Hermione's face burned. How had she, Hermione Granger, forgotten about magic in her frustration?
Before she could formulate a response, two more Slytherins emerged from the shadows: Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Blaise looked amused, while Pansy looked… well, predictably spiteful.
"What's going on?" Blaise asked, eyeing Hermione like she was an interesting new species of rodent.
"Oh, nothing," Malfoy said airily, twirling the book. "Just helping Granger with her height problem."
Pansy cackled. "She's probably too proud to ask for help. Isn't that right, little Miss Perfect?"
Hermione glared at her. "I didn't ask for help."
"No, you didn't," Malfoy agreed. "I took the book for myself, if you're still misunderstanding."
"Oh, come on! Give me the book." she shouted, her hands clenched into fists.
"Hmm…" Malfoy pretended to think, holding the book just out of her reach. "Nope. I think I'll hang on to it for a while. You know, for safekeeping."
The Slytherins erupted into laughter. Pansy was practically doubled over. "Oh, Draco, you're so bad!"
"Cunning, Pansy," Malfoy corrected, his gray eyes glinting with mischief. "Not bad but cunning.
And with that, the trio of Slytherins strolled off, laughing as they disappeared through the library doors.
"Stupid, arrogant ferret," she muttered under her breath. Hermione stood there, seething. She glanced back at the shelf and groaned. Not only had she been humiliated in front of the worst people at Hogwarts, but she still didn't have her book.
And the worst part? He was right. She could've just used her wand. She should have just used Wingardium Leviosa from the start!
I shook off Pansy as she clung to me like a particularly irritating barnacle on a very important ship—me, obviously. She had the nerve to try and loop her arm around mine, and in doing so, managed to nudge that spot. The one still aching, still raw. My jaw tightened as pain shot through my side, but I didn't stop walking. How did she even find it? No doubt, a lingering souvenir from my ever-thoughtful father.
"Ugh, get off me, Pansy. You're disgusting."
My voice wavered—just slightly, but enough to make me flinch internally. Barely noticeable, though.
She pouted, her face shifting to that wide-eyed, tragic innocence she loved to wear. But I caught the flash of annoyance in her gaze—a sneaky, calculating little glare. Power. That's all she wanted. No one actually cared about Draco Malfoy. They cared about the Malfoy name.
I glanced at Blaise, who trailed behind us with the same empty look I often felt inside. He was no less lonely than me, though far less…refined about it.
When we finally reached the dormitory, I threw myself onto my bed. The idea hit me as soon as I lay back. I stared at the object inside my hands. The book I'd stolen from Granger.
Flipping through the pages, I could feel my pulse quickening. And then I found it. The answer. My escape.
(A.N : Please leave me a review! )