This is the first time I've attempted on writing a Dramione fic. So, I hope you'll like it.
The story is set during Draco and Hermione's sixth year in Hogwarts. The story follows the events that took place in the sixth book yet it follows my own timeline so, don't get confused when you find that I interchanged a few stuff. Also, Harry and Ginny had already been dating since their fifth year right after the battle at the Ministry of Magic. The story kicks off when Harry finds Draco crying at the girl's bathroom. But here in this story, Hermione's the one who discovers our hunk of a hero and she finds him two months after the first term starts. (And I don't mean Harry Potter). So, the first Quidditch game hasn't started yet, blah blah blah, and all those things.
So, without further ado, this story has been disclaimed and enjoy reading.
"Honestly, Harry!" Hermione broke into her best friend's roll of explanations about Ron's impertinence towards her and his and Lavender's repulsive public display of affection. "You don't have to explain for him. And it's not like I'm bawling my eyes for my loss. I'm fine, actually." She added when Harry raised an eyebrow at her.
Still, he remained unsure. "I don't know…"
She sighed and skidded to a stop in front of their common room. "Harry, don't worry. I'm okay. I just need to go to the library to… think while I wait for my next class. Go ahead without me."
"I'll go with you." The man was persistent.
Hermione planted a hand on his chest firmly. "Enough, okay?" She almost shouted. "I'm tired of people pitying me. Ron's an idiot and we all know that. Yes, I did love him, and, yes, I thought we would be together, but not everything in life goes with what we want to happen. So, go on with Ginny. I'll be at the library alone and I'll see you later at Professor Snape's class. Good bye." She snapped, whirled around, and stalked away with her chin held up high, and her back as straight as a rod.
Reassured that Harry was not following her, she allowed her shoulders to slump and slowed her pace. No one was watching her now. The corridor was well deserted except for the paintings hung on the walls. She no longer had to put on that brave face and that faux smile she held for everyone else to see and to prove them that she was a practical person who knew better than to sulk and cry her eyes out for a boy. A stupid boy.
Tears began to well in the corners of her eyes but she took a deep breath and held those tears back.
She loved Ron. She loved him very much. It was almost too painful to bear. She had always hoped for that day to come when he'd finally pull her to a secluded place and tell her that he loved her, too, and then they'd kiss each other with such passion that Hermione's blood pressure would reach a feverish pitch. But time took its own course, away from her desires, and somehow, Ron had found someone he loved even more than he loved Hermione. Lavender Brown. Eww, the name itself caused Hermione the urge to throw up the chocolate Ginny had given her while they were out talking beside the lake. A fellow Gryffindor and a sixth-year, Lavender Brown was the girl, you'd say, every guy's fantasy. Blond hair, blue eyes, and the perfect figure… she was all a guy could ever want in a girl.
Too bad she didn't have a brain to match those voluptuous assets and that superbly annoying pout, Hermione thought with a grim smile.
But that was the kind of girl Ron wanted. The dotting, submissive one who would follow after him like a pug and do whatever he wanted without any arguments. If only Hermione paid more attention to him than her studies, he would have chosen her. But then again, Hermione Granger changed for no one. Even for someone she loved so deeply for so many years. Like Ronald Weasley, the git.
Yet she'd buried herself into schoolwork too much this year, she admitted as she rounded a corner. Perhaps, if she tried to loosen up a bit and start to have some fun just for the sake of… having fun… for herself, that'll probably do and reduce her workload a bit. Yes, that would probably do the trick. She could feel herself aging day after day. A trip to the wild would, without a doubt, bring back her youth.
She grinned at the prospect of doing things out of sheer fun and pleasure.
Hermione was so caught up with her thoughts that she almost didn't hear the sound of someone crying. Almost. It was a faint sob which anyone could have mistaken as the whistling of the wind. She paused and waited for the sound to come again. And it did. A bit louder this time and it came from the girl's lavatory. Thinking it was Moaning Myrtle again in one of her fits, she started to resume her walk again.
That was when she realized she had already passed the library and was, in fact, a good deal of seven minutes away. She was about to turn back and go to her original destination when she heard the sound again. It was a loud, muffled cry that echoed sadness and grief which touched her heart and moved her. Before she knew it, she was already walking towards the girl's bathroom.
She opened the door and stepped inside the dimly lit place. What she saw caused her a start and to stop in her tracks.
Standing with his arms braced against the sides of the sink and his shoulders quivering, the epitome of beauty and sexuality ― no other than, the notorious Draco Malfoy ― cried like he didn't care of anyone finding out or hearing him.
His head was bowed low and his back was at her so he didn't see her but a moment later while Hermione debated whether she should go or stay, Malfoy's head snapped up as if he felt her presence and their eyes met each other through the mirror.
As soon Malfoy recognized who she was, he did a double take and swiveled around briskly. "What the hell are you doing here, Granger?" he shouted angrily at her. "You're not only a Mudblood. You're an eavesdropping Mudblood, too!" He ranted, visibly shaking with rage and embarrassment at being discovered in such a vulnerable state.
If Hermione felt pity a few seconds ago, she wasn't right now. In fact, she was ready to kill him. "If you have so inconveniently forgotten, I happen to be a Prefect and last time I checked, this is the girl's lavatory which is strictly for girls, in case that detail slipped your pathetic mind, too, Malfoy." She haughtily stated. "I could easily report you to the Headmaster and you as well know that such violation could suspend you."
There was a small silence after what she said.
"Might as well use your wand on me." Malfoy surprised her with the concession she heard in his voice. "I'd be grateful if you'd kill me right now."
Hermione couldn't contain the look of surprise that came over her face. Here was the legendary Draco Malfoy, the Prince of Slytherin, admitting defeat and pleading ― hah! pleading ― for her to take his life. She was too stunned to move or talk.
Malfoy looked at her with fury. "Now, what are you gaping at? I said take it! I don't give a damn about my life anymore! TAKE IT!" He roared furiously and again, he started to sob and sink to the ground. He had his left leg bent upwards and his left hand propped against his knee. With an uncontrollable sob, he buried his face against his arms.
For the next two minutes that passed, the only sound heard in the room were the water running in the sink and his muffled cries. Hermione stood there, staring at him, dumbfounded and unsure at what to do.
God only knew how much Malfoy had hurt her in the past five years they've been going to Hogwarts. There wasn't a day when she was not harassed by him or insulted by him. He was the first one to brand her as Mudblood. The know-it-all Mudblood from Gryffindor. If she were a selfish person, she would have gloated and called all the students up to the girl's lavatory to watch Malfoy cry like a hussy.
But Hermione was not that person. As much as the notion was tempting, she did not want to degrade herself and stoop down his level. Instead, she did what a good and reasonable person would do: she dropped her bags, hurried to kneel beside him, placed her arms around him, and pulled him to her.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Malfoy struggled to keep his anger in his voice. "Don't you touch those filthy Mudblood hands on me!"
Hermione slapped his head and pushed his head back to her chest. "Shut up, Malfoy. Just shut up." It wasn't a retort or a nasty reply. She said the words with gentleness and warmth as if she were comforting a friend, not her best friend's archenemy.
Somehow her quietly said command slapped him hard on the face and he did shut his mouth up, crying until all of his tears were shed. And all the while, Hermione held him, rocking him back and forth, sometimes rubbing his arms or his back, as how a mother would comfort her child.
Minutes, hours, days or years may have passed by, but the two were oblivious to time. Finally after twenty minutes, Draco's sob had quieted and had reduced to hiccups.
"Feeling better?" Hermione asked quietly, looking down at him.
Embarrassed by his situation, Malfoy wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and turned his face in Hermione's embrace, looking up and meeting her eyes. For the first time in their life, they stared at each other in a very dangerously close range.
Now, Hermione understood why he was chased after by many girls, not only in their school but in London also. He had a very amazing profile. Like he was carved by a very talented painter from Apollo's image. Even better-looking, Hermione added. His eyes were of a very unusual yet compelling shade of gray. One could lose in the depth of those, she thought. And his lips were utterly perfect.
But she was still so deep in Ron that she overlooked Malfoy's handsome features. Very nonchalantly, she was about to repeat her question when she noticed his frown. Instantly, she panicked. "Are you all right? Did you cut something?" She hastily yet a bit roughly checked him for any signs of blood or wounds.
"I'm fine, I'm fine." Malfoy reassured her, pulling back his arm when she took hold of it with the intention of examining it meticulously. "I'm not hurt and there's no blood. No reason to get your knickers up in a bunch."
Hermione snorted. "I see you're fine already considering that you're back to familiar ground."
Malfoy gave her a sheepish grin. "No wonder they say you're smart. You catch up quite fast, Granger."
Good God, were they flirting now? Hermione thought. But knowing Malfoy, she sure that was not what they were doing.
He was entirely too close to her. His face was a mere inch from hers and if she'd bent her head, they would have been kissing.
Appalled by the direction her thoughts were leading her to, she quickly stood, knocking Malfoy down and causing him to bump his head against the floor. "Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry!" She gasped and hurried to help him up. "How badly did you hit your head? Let me see." She tried to take a look at the back of his head but he stilled her movements by gripping her wrists with one hand.
"Granger, Jesus, I'm fine." He said, slightly irritated.
"Oh, um, all right, then." Hermione stuttered, embarrassed at her gaucherie. Merlin, he was too close again. And then, there was that look again as if he were in deep contemplation. Remembering that her hands were still bound by his hand, she whispered, "You can let go of my hands now."
But Malfoy didn't appear to hear her. He was gazing at her with an intense, brooding expression she wondered badly what he was thinking.
"Malfoy." Hermione called to him. "Malfoy." A bit louder this time.
He started to look at her questionably but then he must have realized she was asking him a question because he was suddenly out of his stupor. "What did you say?"
"I said you can let go of my hands now." Hermione repeated, slightly amused.
Malfoy looked down at their joined hands. "Oh, yeah." He released her wrists and then, he gave her a dazzling boyish smile. "Must be having a concussion." He teased.
But Hermione took it to heart. She gasped. "Oh, God! You did hit your head pretty badly! Come on, I'm bringing you to Madam Pomfrey." She began to tug him to the door but he was too strong for her to drag.
He chuckled. "Relax, Granger. Sheesh, I was just teasing you."
She blushed and there was an awkward pause. Fidgeting the sleeve of her robe, Hermione broke the tension between them first. "Oh, well, then, I probably ought to go. I'm five minutes late to Defense Against The Dark Arts already and I know Snape won't lay it off. So..." She was unsure on what to say.
Malfoy was also a bit uncomfortable, especially after his emotional outburst. "Er, thanks for, er, keeping me company."
Hermione might as well had a heart attack. Draco Malfoy thanking her? Please. This new him was quite awkward to deal with.
"No problem." She replied courteously as she retrieved her bag from the ground where she dropped them earlier. "So, I guess I'll see you around." She said awkwardly.
"Yeah, I guess so."
With a half-wave of the hand, she turned her back and was about to close the door behind her when she heard him call out to her in that usual despicable voice of his, "Hey, this doesn't mean we're friends, Granger! And if you tell any of your friends, especially Weaselbee and Potty, I promise you you'll regret it."
Surprisingly, his threat didn't seem to faze her. In fact, she chuckled and called back out, "And you'll regret promising it."
She closed the door at once so she didn't catch Malfoy's smile.
Hermione arrived at Snape's class ten minutes late. The infamous professor was in the middle of a discussion when Hermione walked inside the classroom, panting.
"I'm so sorry I'm late, professor." She apologized, out of breath.
Snape tsked at her. "Well, what do we have here? Little Miss Prim-And-Proper eIftardy for the first time in six years. Charming, isn't it?" He sardonically remarked. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor for your unpunctuality, Miss Granger, and I don't care if you're a Prefect or not, but if this incident happens again, I'll deduct fifty points from your House. Understood?"
Hermione suddenly had the urge to run to the front and grab him by the neck. Or rather, hex him. "Yes, sir."
"Hop on to your seat now, Miss Granger, unless you want another fifteen-point deduction?" He threatened with a cold smile.
She didn't have to be told again. Hermione scurried toward her seat next to Harry, two rows from the Teacher's Desk.
"Where have you been?" Harry asked as soon as she sat down beside him. "You've never been late before. Are you ill?" He was now worried.
Hermione smiled a bit. "Relax, Harry, I'm all right. I just dozed off while reading at the library." She lied, hoping he'd buy it.
Harry stare at her suspiciously but then he nodded, although he was still half-convinced. Hermione was a hundred-percent sure that her highly inquisitive best friend will bring it up again. Probably later at dinner when Ron's around, she bleakly thought.
She sighed inwardly before shifting her attention to Professor Snape who was continuing his discussion about Veelas.
She tried to focus on the lesson, even though she had read and studied and memorized it already, but Malfoy would occasionally enter her mind. Like how pitiful he looked, how depressed and sad he was, how desperate he sounded when he pleaded for her to kill him and end his torment, like how he cried. But then, there were those thoughts, those inevitable thoughts. Like how handsome he looked up-close. Sure, he was probably the most handsome guy in Hogwarts, not to mention, the most loaded, too, but Hermione hadn't really looked at him from a girl's perspective. Every time they met, she looked at him as her best friend's enemy. Nothing more, nothing less. That was that. But seeing him up-close, she could now understand why everyone girl went gaga over him. His hair looked so soft and gorgeous that she wanted to run her fingers through those desirable locks. His body, the muscles underneath that perfectly tanned skin, was so to-die-for that she wanted to touch his biceps, every nook and corner of his sculptured torso. His lips, so flawless and perfect, had been so tantalizingly close to hers that she wanted to brush her lips against his perfect ones. But, most of all, his eyes. Merlin's beard, his eyes were of an remarkable shade of gray and they always had a mischievous glint in them. When he turned those eyes at her, she was instantly lost in them. It was frightening at first when he stared at her. Those sinful lead eyes appeared like they were looking through her, right at her soul. Draco Malfoy could really be intimidating. Gorgeously and deliciously intimidating, she added with a secret smile.
"What are you smiling about?" Harry's question jarred her out of her fantasies.
Hermione blinked. "What? Oh, nothing. I was just thinking of something funny." Or some dark, handsome devil. She shook her head, not allowing her hormones lead her toward that direction.
For the next two hours, she forced her mind to only accept academic and rational thoughts, and close the gate for ludicrous fancies of a certain tall blond Greek god. She planned to distract herself with a truckload of books and studies for the rest of the school year. She wasn't going to allow some ridiculous twenty-five minute encounter with Draco Malfoy addle her from her foremost priorities. With that firm decision, she focused on doing what she did best: listening to the lesson and reciting and complaining when the explanation was not enough for her.
And all throughout the class, Harry Potter studied her with a calculative look, still dubious, knowing that there was a reason behind his best friend's peculiar behavior.
