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Chapter Text

Chapter Text

DRAMIONE IN FRAGMENTS
By: TycheSong

Part I: I’m Bored: (What happens when the Head Girl gets bored one day? She might just surprise Draco!)

They sat on opposite ends of the couch in their common room, legs crossed the same direction as their gazes—opposite walls.

Draco had long since given up trying to look aloof while they waited, and had started to attempt to bore a hole into the cloth of the couch arm with the handle of his tea spoon. Hermione had gone so far as actually laying her head back against the couch, so that only her voluminous hair was visible. Not that Draco was looking.

Dumbledore still didn't hail them from the floo as promised. It had been nearly an hour since he had told them to wait for his summons, and from what Draco could tell, he had forgotten about them entirely.

He was just about to inform the Head Girl that he was off to his room, and Dumbledore could bloody well wait for him to be fetched when he decided to make his presence known when—

"I'm bored." Hermione's head turned and her eyes met his. "Want to do it?"

Draco felt his eyes widen and jaw slacken slightly. Had Granger just propositioned him? He eyed her incredulously a moment.

"Uhm…sure?" He stammered. "I mean, sure!" Who was he to turn down a free shag, even if it was Granger? Granger, of all people. "I mean…wait…what?"

Granger shook her head impatiently, and rolled her eyes. "Slytherin Sex God, my arse. Never mind, Malfoy. I'll go find Zabini. Or Seamus. He's always up for a boredom shag."

Draco felt his mouth drop completely. Boredom shag? And Zabini had shagged Granger? And kept it to himself? Well that was just bloody inconsiderate of him! Suddenly, he realized that she was already on her feet and half way to the door.

"Wait!"

Chapter Text

DRAMIONE IN FRAGMENTS
By: TycheSong

Part II: His Favourite Colour: (Draco makes a startling discovery about himself...)

Draco Malfoy had a secret. His favourite colour wasn't green. It wasn't black, or silver, or any of the other dignified acceptable colours one would expect of a Slytherin Prince. His favourite color was a cinnamon brown. It had been for quite some time now, and it took him a long while to figure out why. Then one day he realized.

His favourite color was the exact shade of Hermione Granger's hair. Not just at any moment, of course. It was when she sat at her favourite spot in the library, so that her hair was lit by one of the long windows behind her. Or when she was walking out doors, usually down to the big, stupid oaf's hut. The sun, when it bothered to come out, would hit her hair a certain way, and it would turn into a glorious, tumbled mass of cinnamon brown.

He stopped thinking about cinnamon brown once he realized. Certain things were a certain way, after all. It wouldn't do to get caught up in something so impossible on so many fronts. Still...

Still.

It was so warm. Not flashy, by any means, and most people would consider it down-right boring. It was because they hadn't seen it in the sunlight where it belonged. There, it became something else. Warm. Inviting. A lovely riot of beyond-average that Draco couldn't seem to make himself scoff at.

And when it was angry, it—

Draco shook himself, a little savagely.

It's an effing colour.

His abrupt movement caused her to look up, a lock of that dangerous cinnamon brown springing free from her headband and falling into her eyes. Her eyes met his, just for a moment, and Draco knew.

Things were just the way they were, and that would not change. But his favourite colour would always be cinnamon brown—the exact shade of Hermione Granger's hair.

Chapter Text

DRAMIONE IN FRAGMENTS
by: TycheSong

Part III: Watched: (Hermione knows he's been keeping an eye on her...)

He was watching her again. He had been doing that a lot, of late, when he thought no one was noticing him do it. She could feel his eyes, however. He watched her read, he watched her when she laughed with one of her friends. She felt his eyes on her as she wandered the halls, while she sat in class, when she ate. They narrowed with awareness when she laid a hand on Blaise's shoulder, even if his attention was seemingly not on her.

She probably shouldn't have told him about her sleeping with him; it had only been the once, and neither was interested in the other. She had been so tired of him treating her like a child, and the look on his face when she had mentioned casual sex with both Blaise and Seamus had been so very worth it.

She had never actually slept with Seamus. Malfoy didn't know that, though, and Seamus was aware that she had made the false claim. He wouldn't deny it happened. Frankly, she thought Seamus had been rather pleased that she had named him as her fake fuck-buddy.

Her neck prickled, and she glanced up quickly, her eyes shooting to Draco Malfoy, hoping to catch the Head Boy in his game. She didn't; he was, to all intents and purposes, reading a textbook quietly in the corner. He made her nervous. He didn't act hostile, his careful study of her didn't feel malicious. She didn't know what his motivations were, and it made her skittish.

He was playing a subversive cat-and-mouse game with her, and she had no idea what the game was. All she knew was that despite winning the war, she was not the cat.

Chapter Text

DRAMIONE IN FRAGMENTS
by: TycheSong

Part IV: A Different Side: (Hermione eyes him back...)

She had watched him comfort a second year that had been bullied. Not just any second year, but Jonathan DeWitt, a Hufflepuff second year. He had smoothly talked the boy into opening up, insisting that he wanted to be his friend based on his marks. He had compared the small boy's schooling prowess to that of the Head Girl's in glowing tones, which had made the boy blush with pride.

It had made Hermione blush with pride, too.

Apparently satisfied that Draco Malfoy wanted to be his friend for the sake of the things he would someday accomplish, Jonathan had been more than willing to tell him about the third and fourth year shites making his life hell. Malfoy had then solemnly promised that he'd make sure that everyone knew that Jonathan was under his protection…but only if he was serious about being his friend.

Hermione had melted just a little. That was quite honestly the sweetest thing she had ever seen anyone do. Even Harry had treated the First-and-Second Years as more of a nuisance than charges under his protection. Draco had not only put the word out to back off the kid, but taken the time to make sure the kid's pride was intact, too. It was one of the most masterful and well-intentioned cons she had ever seen.

Carefully she had melded back into the shadows of the wall, and watched as he stood again. His expression had been at ease, his lips even slightly tipped in a small, satisfied smile. It made his mouth look entirely kissable. She had found him attractive before, of course, but now…now something in her gave a little twang of longing. She wanted to kiss Draco Malfoy. Not just her good-looking-but-kind-of-a-prat suite mate, but Draco. Just for being…well, him. For doing that.

This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

Chapter Text

DRAMIONE IN FRAGMENTS
by: TycheSong

Part V: No Words: (Draco can feel the change in their dynamic)

Something had changed. He wasn't entirely sure what or when it had started, because they didn't talk about it. But there was a difference. She didn't rush into her room when he was there in their commons; she lingered. She still didn't speak much to him—and he was fine with that!—but he couldn't deny that something had loosened.

She studied near him now, and read; she didn't make sarcastic or biting remarks, and he found that he wasn't either. She had stopped giving him wary glances, like he might suddenly turn into a wild animal, and had started giving him curious ones—even interested ones. Like he was perhaps a puzzle, or maybe, just maybe, even a person.

They had been living some kind of truce since the year had started, a couple of months previously. Now it felt like there was actually a peace, as well. They carefully did not mention it, just like they carefully did not bait each other.

He found himself wondering if her cinnamon brown hair was soft or wiry, or if she would taste the way she smelled…like peaches. He found his mind drifting back to that night when the headmaster had forgotten them, and she had offered to shag him out of boredom. She hadn't been serious, he didn't think. Not really. But he wondered anyway what would have happened if he had just said yes. Just…yes.

Their whole dynamic (because it wasn't a relationship) was overwhelming, and they were not saying a thing.