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~*~
Draco wasn’t sure why he had returned to Hogwarts after the war. He technically hadn’t even finished his seventh year. But he had no interest in sitting at the Manor under Magical house arrest, surrounded by dark memories of what had occurred there, or worse, locked up in Azkaban.
Ultimately, he had no choice but to finish his education. Hogwarts was a far less intimidating prison, afterall.
His wand would have a trace on it, so his location would always be known. He also had to wear a thin silver bracelet, an Admonitor, to monitor any and all spells he cast. Draco could feel the hum of its restrictive magic whenever he held his wand or tried to cast. It was rather a nuisance, limiting his magic to rather mundane and simple ones. Any advanced spells—or ones of questionable abilities— had to be cleared by his parole Auror at the Ministry. Not to mention, Draco found it humiliating to approach the professors each week prior to lessons to get a comprehensive list to owl to the Auror.
Nothing quite like reminding them on a regular basis he was a convicted Death Eater.
A handful of students of his age had returned to finish their final year as well, despite the fact that most had been excused from completion due to the circumstances they had endured over the last year. The majority of his Slytherin friends and companions had opted to not return, taking advantage of the opportunity given to them, but a few in his year had. Among those to return had been none other than Hermione Granger, of course. He had expected no less of her, being the— admittedly— brilliant swot of a witch she was.
Draco was quick to realize his schedule was almost identical to Grangers. Which he didn’t mind necessarily, but he wasn’t sure what to think of it. How could he sit in the same room as her nearly every day for hours on end? His stomach churned at the thought.
They shared History of Magic on Monday morning. Charms was Tuesday morning, followed by Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures—still taught by that oaf—and then Herbology. They were partnered in Advanced Potions not only on Mondays, but Thursdays as well. Astronomy was Wednesday nights, and somehow Draco found himself seated near the witch for most of said classes.
And just like him, her entire Fridays seem to be clear of classes and they had bumped into each other more than once whilst wandering the castle. Usually Granger was headed in the direction of the library to study or in search of a place for solitude, much like him.
One thing Draco found odd about inadvertently sharing his time with Granger was the fact she no longer seemed to be the obnoxious, on-the-edge-of-her-seat-while-her-hand-flailed-in-the-air, know-it-all witch he remembered. She was almost subdued in her nature now, her hand infrequently jolting up into the air. It seemed as if her enthusiasm were gone, replaced with a dull melancholy that seemed to hang about the air in the school.
Granger was quiet as she perched on her stool beside him in Potions one day servers , her hands folded in her lap as she looked up at the board in the front of the room. Her brows drew together as she read it, and her hand shot up into the air as soon as Professor Slughorn entered the room.
“Professor,” Granger called for his attention, “Why are we repeating this potion? We already brewed it—”
Slughorn smiled at her warmly; she was one of his favorite students and he did little to hide it, “Miss Granger, you’ll find that Amortentia will be on your NEWTs.”
Her hand sank back down as she glanced at Draco.
“Now, who remembers the ingredients—“ Slughorn didn’t get to finish his sentence as Granger’s hand shot back up. He seemed rather pleased, “Go ahead.”
“Ashwinder eggs, powdered moonstone, pearl dust, rose petals but they can be swapped for rose thorns. There are several other optional ingredients, including but not limited to peppermint—”
“Such a powerful memory, Miss Granger!” Slughorn praised before she could even complete the list.
Granger was beaming, one of the first real smiles she had given over the last few weeks. Draco wasn’t really listening to their professor as he dragged his book out of his satchel, dropping it onto the table between them.
“Do you think you’re going to smell the same thing as last time?” She asked in a whisper, leaning towards him.
He was caught off guard by her sudden question; she rarely spoke to him beyond the necessities. He lowered his bag to the ground as he looked at her from beneath his blond fringe of hair as it fell over his forehead.
“Er, maybe? Does it change?” Draco asked her quietly.
She was opening his potions book, flipping through the pages until she found the section on the love potion. It took her but a moment to find the passage she sought, her finger tapped it as she read, “Amortentia as a substance mimics the pheromones of which an individual is attracted to. This may change over time, both due to your tastes or whom you are attracted to. ”
“A simple yes would have sufficed,” He muttered, his words coming out more harshly than he would have preferred. She had done nothing to earn his displeasure, having been continually amicable to him despite their history.
Granger was quiet at his response, her eyes flashing briefly at his tone but there was no quib in return.
“You may go gather your ingredients. You have one hour!” Slughorn called from the front of the classroom, his arms folded behind his back as he watched them. There was a flurry of motion as students rose to their feet and made their way to the back of the chamber to where all the supplies were kept. Granger did as well but paused as she realized that Draco hadn’t moved.
“Are you going to help? I’m not carrying it by myself,” She scolded quietly.
Draco motioned a hand towards the students that had gathered about the cabinets of ingredients, “We have time. I’m not about to fight over some bloody eggs.”
Granger looked hesitant, clearly fighting against her nature to leap into action. He could see the wheels cranking in her mind, knowing the other students would let her through to gather what she needed. She wouldn't have to wait. Being a war heroine had its perks. Draco was rarely afforded such niceties anymore. His family name no longer carried the weight it once had, and anything that may have remained after the war had been dashed away by being a confirmed Death Eater.
“Sit,” He said firmly.
She bit the inside of her cheek but promptly planted her arse back on her stool, her heels resting on the bottom rung as she watched the others. Her hands gripped the seat beneath her, turning her knuckles white. She was clearly barely restraining herself.
Draco spun in a slow circle until he faced her, their knees bumping together. Granger drew her legs together and turned them away from him, her eyes catching his before she glanced away. She bounced her leg a little as she fidgeted, one hand coming up to tug her skirt towards her knees.
“Must you always be so anxious?” Draco asked, motioning with a hand towards hers. His rings glinted in the candlelight of the classroom, catching her attention.
“I’m not anxious—” She stared towards the counter, stopping as he reached out and put a single finger on her bare knee. She immediately stopped moving as she stared down at the offending digit.
He realized that he had never touched her before this moment. She must have realized it too. They had classes together for years, been partnered together even, but he had never intentionally touched her.
“I’m not anxious,” she repeated firmly as she looked up at him.
“Your body says otherwise,” he pointed out, tapping his finger against her knee just as it began to bounce again.
Her brows furrowed together at his remark, “If you must know, I hadn’t realized I was doing it.”
Draco had no response to her. Being with her so much had made him privy to many of her little anxious tells; the way she would play with the hem of her skirt while she took notes. The way she jiggled her leg during a lecture. How she would worry on her bottom lip while adding ingredients to a potion.
Suddenly she was springing from her seat, a hand coming out to catch the edge of his robes. He felt himself jerked to his feet, “Lines died down. Enough waiting.”
He scoffed, untangling her fingers from his robes. But he fell into step behind her as she shuffled across the room. He could hear her muttering the list of ingredients under her breath as she started to turn the jars and bottles about to read the labels. More than once he found her arm pressed to his chest as she dipped and turned, her face flushing pink every time as she shuffled back away. Each time, with each accidental touch, he felt a subtle jolt through his body. A burst of excitement. Draco enjoyed watching Granger becoming flustered, too. He was as well, his own breath hitching slightly, but he was able to occlude his expression to her.
They both reached for the final jar, his fingers brushed against hers, and she let out a quiet forced laugh as she jerked her hand back, “Sorry. You take it—”
“It’s going back to the same table, Granger,” He responded as he raised a brow at her, ignoring that fluttering sensation he was coming to associate with her.
“Right, well…” She didn’t continue as she scooped up the jars from the stack they had created, casting a glance at him before dipping away.
Granger was silent then as they returned to the table and started brewing. just as she was for most of their potions classes. And just like she always did when she was done adding ingredients to a potion, she threw her hair into some sort of bun, jabbed her wand through the mass of curls, and watched the cauldron as it simmered. He had to admit, he rather enjoyed working with her. They were both observant enough that they could combine their skills in tandem, one of them would add the next ingredient while the other one stirred. It was relaxing really, being able to do such a complicated potion without the small talk one would make with other lab partners.
It didn’t even seem like an hour had passed to Draco before Slughorn was calling them to wrap things up.
“Time’s up, class!” the professor said, “I will come around to each table. Please begin cleaning up your messes while you wait,” Slughorn announced.
Draco started to put the lids back on the jars as she shut his book, slipping it across the table to him as she cleaned up the discarded ingredients. She hurried the jars back to the cabinet just as Slughorn reached their table.
“Mr. Malfoy, Miss Granger. I only expect the best from you two,” The professor beamed in excitement at them, “So. Do tell me what you smell.”
Granger leaned over the cauldron, a wayward curl sliding free to hang about her face. She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath. Her brows drew together, a puzzled expression crossing her face as she straightened, “The same as before, Professor. Parchment, freshly mowed grass and spearmint toothpaste.”
“Lovely,” Slughorn said, “Mr. Malfoy?”
Draco stepped forward and said, “Parchment, grass and…” He frowned but finally added, “...apples.”
“Right-O, my boy. Your potion is beautifully done, as always. Please bottle it up and off you two go!” Slughorn was already sweeping away to the next table before they could respond.
“Yours was the same?” Draco asked Granger absently as she used her wand to direct some vials into the cauldron, filling them quickly.
“As last time? Yes,” Granger responded quietly, glancing at him again. If he didn’t know any better, he would guess her expression was one of confusion, but it was one he had rarely -– if ever— seen on her face.
He waved his wand to wipe the table clear, “It was your Weaselbee, right?”
She hit her bag against the table as she picked it up from the ground, turning towards him with a confused expression, “I thought it had been Ron, then. But we are no longer together, so…”
Draco slipped his wand into the pocket of his robes as he studied her closely, hearing the strain in her voice as she adjusted the strap on her shoulder, her brown eyes darkened as she met his gaze.
Before he could ask her what had happened —not that he really cared, right?—she had looked past him to see that most of their classmates were filing out of the room.
She glanced up towards the clock on the wall, “Oh! Well I must be off. Things to do. See you at DADA later.”
Granger swept by him hurriedly and disappeared out the door. He watched her leave, feeling an odd sense of…he wasn’t sure, really. The entirety of this year was off putting to him. And to find Granger being his partner, without the usual bite, and even seeming to look forward to class later with him…How curious.
Draco had to admit he rather looked forward to DADA with her that evening.
~*~
Their odd friendship began to blossom each passing day, without the restrictions of their former alliances in the way. Without Potter and Weasley, she seemed to gravitate towards him. She was no less bossy than he remembered, but she had never directed it at him. He found it rather amusing when she would turn during class, grab his wrist as if to aid him and then pause when she realized that he was indeed doing it correctly.
Just how often was she correcting her idiot friends?
So then she would mumble an apology, her cheeks stained pink as she released Draco to return to her own work. He would never admit aloud he felt a small sense of excitement any time she would reach for him, an expectation of her touch. He quickly realized that in classes she was most confident in, such as Charms or DADA, she rarely exhibited any of her nervous ticks.
No, those were mostly reserved for Potions.
He learned that as soon as she clicked her heel onto the bottom rung of the stool she perched on, her leg would start bouncing in that anxious fashion. It drove him mad, the near silent squeak of her shoe against the wood.
So Draco would reach out, place a hand firmly on her knee and she would immediately stop her fidgeting. She never remarked on it, nor pushed his hand away. Instead, she would cast little glances at him from beneath her lashes. At first, it was merely to stop the annoying jiggle of her leg. But after each time he did it — sometimes multiple times during class— Draco started to notice the smoothness of the skin beneath his hand. He found his thumb would slide along the side of her knee, tracing the contours. Draco swore he heard her breath catch at the motion but she made no remark.
He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it, truly he didn’t. But it became a habit, letting his fingers play against her smooth skin. Just at her knee, he was respectful of their tenuous friendship, of course. She rather seemed to enjoy it too, more than once her hand falling to cover his. Her fingers fiddled with the rings absentmindedly, his body practically humming from each brush of her hand against his. Such a simple touch and he was wound with some sort of anticipation.
A yearning for more, even.
It was during one lecture in Charms he found her sitting next to him in the back of the classroom, her chin planted on her palm as she gazed up at the front of the room with a bored expression. Granger normally sat towards the front in this class, but he made no remark on her change of seating.
They had continually been gravitating more and more towards each other, even seeking each other out between classes to compare notes or talk about whatever happened to cross their minds. On one occasion she had been lecturing him on his form, reaching up to straighten his tie as she spoke. It had been a simple gesture, friendly even, but she had stood almost too close. He remembered how he could count the freckles that marched across the bridge of her nose, the subtle citrus perfume she wore, the faint ink smudges on the tips of her fingers and a matching one across her cheek from where she had wiped her face.
Her leg started to jiggle and Draco automatically reached out, placing his palm against her thigh to stop it, nevermind the fact that it never jiggled in charms. She turned her eyes to him and he could see something only akin to a victory in her eyes. Granger had been testing him. The only time thus far he had gone out of his way to touch her was during Potions and she had just altered that.
“Why do you do that?” She whispered.
Draco scowled at her, “Do what?”
Her hand fell to rest on top of his, “This?”
He whispered back, “Because the squeak of your shoe drives me insane .”
“You could use your words to remind me to stop,” She whispered back, keeping her hand on his.
“I don’t want to,” Draco bit out.
“Don’t be a child and sulk,” Granger replied haughtily, glancing down at their hands on her leg. She traced a finger along his, fiddling with one of his rings. Her voice dropped to barely a whisper as she cast a glance around them, “I meant that you can do this more often.”
His fingers briefly gripped into her skin at her words, a faint fluttering in his stomach. Surely she couldn’t mean…?
She bit her bottom lip as she looked at him, “If you’d like, of course. I don’t mean to presume—“
“You want me to keep doing this?” Draco asked in quiet incredulity. “To…touch you?” He had been, for weeks now, but it has never been openly addressed. Her fingers were continuing to trace along his, sending little flutters through him at each tentative caress.
Granger was silent for what felt like an eternity as she looked away from their hands and towards the front of the class, but he could tell she wasn’t focused on the discussion. She had briefly slipped into her mind, much like how did.
She finally turned her attention back to him, her brown eyes questioning as if she were surprised by her own answer, “Yes, I do.”
Draco wasn’t sure how to process this, her sudden want of this contact. While she had never pushed him away, he assumed she merely tolerated it as a way to cope with her nervous tick. But here she was…giving him permission to continue doing this.
“Okay,” He replied in a whisper.
Now wasn’t the time to further explore her request. He simply acknowledged it by leaving his hand on her thigh. He felt the faint butterflies of excitement in his stomach as he let his thumb caress her skin. She had removed her hand, picking up her quill to resume her notes. He wondered if she found some comfort in it, or simply enjoyed it.
Just touching her sent goosebumps through Draco, so he was sure she felt a delicious thrill at the contact as well.
With her verbal permission, they started to sit next to each other in every class they shared. By now, most of their classmates had lost interest in the Golden Girl and Death Eater, but their growing friendship definitely raised eyebrows. He would rest his hand on her leg, sometimes slipping his fingers beneath the hem of her skirt to trace along her smooth skin. Granger rather seemed to enjoy when his hand would inch inward to caress the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and Draco had to admit he enjoyed watching a delightful flush cross her cheeks.
Draco rather liked making the Golden Girl become flustered, if even for a moment.
Had she never been touched like this?
It was nothing more than a simple caress, and yet she seemed to revel in it every time, no matter how innocent it was.
What would she do if his hand wandered a bit further? If he sat a bit closer? Would she let him brush some of those wayward curls aside as they broke free of the braid she so desperately used to try to tame her hair?
Perhaps she was just as starved for affection as he was.
For the most part, her companionship brought him a kind of solace. A quiet comfort while simultaneously it made his very mind sing with an anticipation he had no recollection of needing to sooth. She seemed to find it in him as well. Odd, how that worked. How one could dislike someone for years and with a flip of a coin, it could change. Or perhaps it was because they had a mutual trauma; the war had been brutal on everyone.
Despite their brutal past, their rivalry and what had happened to her at his own home, there seemed to be no judgment from her. Perhaps an understanding that they both had suffered. He had happened upon her several times where Granger had been lost in thought— dark thoughts. He could see the pain of the memories on her face. Draco had joined her each time, sitting in silence. She had acknowledged his presence, her hand brushing against his as if she wanted to hold it before withdrawing again. During one of these times, they spoke of happier things; their progress in classes, what they did during free time, what they looked forward to in their futures. Draco realized that he actually cared what she wanted to do when she left Hogwarts. Granger had mentioned her Fridays were free of classes— which was the same as him, of course— and hinted at going to Hogsmeade together. Despite the way his heart had hummed with a subtle excitement to know she wanted to be with him, if only as friends, caused him immense elation. He had declined, begrudgingly mentioning his trace that wouldn’t allow him to leave the grounds.
Draco seethed that his past continued to haunt him, taunt him even. His own Mark would forever remind him of who he had been.
It was during their Potions class on a Thursday afternoon that it really hit home just how much they had endured, how she had endured. By his family, no less. She had cast the outermost layer of her robes aside and rolled the sleeves of her shirt up to just past her elbow, revealing the scarred letters dug into her forearm. He had felt his stomach plummeting at the sight of it, vividly recalling that night. Her screams. He felt nauseated all over again.
How could she even look at him?
Let him touch her?
Draco couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror half the time, yet she smiled at him as if none of it mattered anymore. Like she hadn’t been bloody tortured and carved into before his very eyes by his sadistic Aunt.
His palms were growing clammy and he leaned forward to press his hands into the table, despising those hands for having the audacity to touch her. To look at her. To sit besides her, as if they were friends. They had never been friends and they never could be. How could he be her friend?
How could she even look at him ?
Granger’s hand on his arm snapped him out of his darkening mind, “Malfoy?”
The concern in her voice nearly broke him as he pulled away from her, standing abruptly and nearly knocking over his stool. He muttered something incoherently along the lines of an apology or excusing him, he didn’t know. The words just tumbled from his lips as he spun away. The classroom grew momentarily silent as everyone turned to look at him as he hurried from the chamber, tearing at his tie as he felt himself growing heated.
Draco needed to get away. To put as much space between himself and her.
Footsteps sounded behind him, closing in on him until he felt a small hand grabbing his. Draco was drawn to a halt as her fingers slipped between his as Granger grasped his hand, his heart leaping into his throat.
“Draco,” Granger’s voice was silken like honey as she said his name. He looked at the ceiling as he struggled to breathe, “Are you okay?” Her voice was quiet, soothing as she questioned, “What’s wrong? I know we’ve been through a lot…The war…Harry sometimes struggles like this, becomes overwhelmed. I do too. Are you having flashbacks–?”
“It’s not just a flashback, Granger. It’s the memories,” Draco pressed his eyes shut tight, willing himself to remain where he stood so he didn't have to face her, “The memories of what you endured at my home. Because of my family and their stupid prejudices. I hate it. You're here, acting like my friend, like nothing happened …You make it worse.”
He knew his words were brutal, intentionally painful. She needed to be reminded of who he was. The Death Eater who had done so much to her friends, to her. Allowed her to be tortured, to be broken. The Death Eater who, somehow, had been allowed a second chance.
“I don’t understand,” Granger hadn’t moved from behind him, but her hand remained in his yet. He could hear the hurt and confusion in her voice, he could vividly imagine the pain crossing her face; the way her brows would dip together, her mahogany brown eyes darkening. “What does this—” She squeezed his hand, “Have to do with anything?”
Draco hated himself as he said it, “This is nothing. There is nothing . We can never be anything. I don’t know why—“ His voice caught and he pushed through it, “ why you are even associating with me.”
Granger started to walk about to face him, “I don’t care about—”
He tore his hand free of hers, “But I do. I have not earned your forgiveness, I do not deserve it and I do not want it.”
She was silent at the finality of his words and they seemed to echo down the empty corridor. Draco had yet to look at her, to tear his eyes away from the arching ceiling above him. He couldn’t bear to see the pain in her face. The pain he was causing. But she needed to realize he was not her friend, that she needed to find her way back to her Potter or Weasley.
Anyone but him.
“I made a mistake by coming back here,” Draco said coolly as he schooled his expression into one of cold indifference. He finally looked at her, “And a mistake by ever associating with you.”
The pain she felt at his words was visible on her face.
He took her silence as the opportunity to walk away from her. He had to put as much distance between them as possible to solidify his resolve.
Each step echoed his thoughts; I don't deserve her. I don’t deserve redemption. I don’t deserve her…It repeated in his mind until he found himself passing through the front doors of Hogwarts and striding through the courtyard. It had started to mist, the sky becoming gray and heavy with rain overhead. But Draco didn’t care. He felt numb to it.
His legs carried him across the lawn and down the sloping hill towards the Forbidden Forest. He still didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to get away and put as much distance between him and Hogwarts. Between him and her.
The trees seemed to swallow him, engulfing him into the shadows as he passed through the towering trunks. It was quiet here, silent even. The forest held no judgment; it was old, tired, unfeeling. It cared not who he was or who he had been. It didn’t care how he felt or how he worried for his future. It didn’t care as his world started to cave in around him yet again, the depression bleak and heavy. It pressed in on him, suffocating yet embracing. A shadow of all his emotions and yet overwhelming at the same time.
He felt everything and nothing.
Draco slipped on an exposed root, sending him tumbling headfirst down a slope until he came to rest on his back at the bottom. He had been so lost in his mind he hadn’t even felt the bruising pain as his body stilled, staring up at the canopy above him. He wasn’t really looking at the branches twisting above him, he was lost in his thoughts and memories.
~*~
“Draco?”
How long had he been laying there? The ground was becoming wet beneath him as heavy drops slipped through the leaves.
“Draco?” Her voice was growing closer, and suddenly she was above him, her wand held above her and a shimmering shield kept her dry.
“Hermione?” Draco asked quietly as he focused on her face.
He wondered if he had struck his head when he had fallen. There was no way she would be out here right now after how he had acted.
Her lips tipped slightly in a small smile at her name, and she lowered a hand to him, “We should get back inside.”
Draco swallowed as he looked at her hand, hovering between them. Unwavering and steady. How could she still want to be his friend? He hesitated before reaching up to grasp it. She helped him to his feet, gripping his arm with her wand hand to steady him. Granger’s smile slipped as she reached up to touch his forehead, her fingers coming away red.
Ah, so he had struck his head.
“Why?” Was all he asked as he looked down at her.
Granger met his eyes and held his gaze, “Does it matter?”
“To me it does,” Draco hated how pitiful he sounded, how broken. Gods, why was she still here?
“Because I saw how much you struggled last year, like I did. How much you wished you could have chosen a different path. If someone had been there for you, maybe you wouldn’t have done what you did. But there were a lot of maybes and what ifs during the war. And none of it matters now. What matters,” She lifted a hand to his face, her fingers hovering but not touching, “Is who you are now and who you wish to become.”
Draco felt a pang in his chest as he continued to look at her, wondering how he had ever been so blind to find her ugly. So stupid to call her something so foul as a Mudblood.
He wasn’t sure how to respond to her, to her admission, to her honesty. She was so forgiving, but why?
“Let me show you something,” Granger said quietly as she turned from him. She didn’t wait for him to follow, merely expected it of him.
Draco hesitated, but eventually did as she bade, walking behind her as the skies started to open in earnest. The rain was coming down heavier now, blanketing the ground in a thin layer of water and turning the soil to mud. She marched through it, uncaring. He wanted to ask where she was taking him, but he couldn’t find his words. He didn’t know how long they walked but eventually she slowed and waited for him to catch up.
Cresting a hill, she gestured to a pair of large creatures that were sauntering about the clearing. They were, in appearance, the same as horses. But ghastly and skeletal, their black skin stretched thinly across bones. They had leathery wings, massiving and folded against their sides. Their faces were almost reptilian at a glance, with pale white eyes that seemed to see nothing.
Granger had turned to look at him, silently offering her hand.
“Is that a…?” He asked, laying his hand in hers.
She folded her fingers about his, “Thestrals. You can see them, just like I can.”
It was a statement, not a question. One he hoped she would elaborate on. He had never seen these creatures before and they were bloody terrifying.
“They are only visible to someone who has seen death,” Granger explained as she led him down the slope towards them. One of the creatures looked up as they neared, pawing the ground as it pranced anxiously.
They neared the Thestral, the creature lowering its face to Granger. She had a sad smile upon her lips as she lifted her free hand to it, her fingers stroking along the front of its nose. She drew him closer, lifting his hand to replace hers.
“It seems almost all of us can see them now,” Granger said quietly, turning to look at him. Her expression had fallen further now and he realized how much she had truly lost. So many of her friends, her family. Gone. “I’m tired of living in the past. In the memories. We’ve lost so much, Draco. I just want to move forward.”
“What does that have to do with me?” He asked roughly, tearing his gaze away from hers as the creature butted its head against his palm.
“I like you, Draco. You’re not who you used to be. Being with you these last few weeks, I’ve seen it for myself.”
Her words sank into him, both a soothing balm to his aching soul and a twisting knife.
“Hermione, I—”
Draco’s words were cut off as she leaned up onto her toes, pressing her lips to his. His heart leapt at the gentle touch, and at the same time his stomach started to plummet. The sky cracked above them and a flood of rain came down on them. He tentatively returned her kiss, and her fingers twisted into the front of his robes.
Could she really want this?
Want him?
Her arm wound his neck, drawing him deeper into their kiss, assuring him this was okay. That this…this was right.
“Please, stop letting the past eat at you Draco. I forgive you,” Her lips grazed his, “I forgive you. Let’s just move on, I want you. I want a chance at something.”
Draco tentatively cupped a hand to her cheek as he looked down at her, at the possibility she was offering him. A future.. A glimmer of hope. He would be a fool to turn her away, to turn it down.
“Hermione, I hope you know I’m going to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” he traced his thumb along her bottom lip, swiping away drops of water, “Every day.”
And he meant it, he would do everything in his power to make sure he became the wizard she thought he could be, who he needed to be to deserve Hermione Granger.
His Golden Girl.