The Slytherin Ball | #DRAMIONE ✓

010

HERMIONE

"You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!"

The kiss was something that just couldn't escape Hermione's thoughts. Out of all quizzical and logical nonsense that helped her sleep every night couldn't overcome something so small and light held so much warmth and emotion that not even Hermione could comprehend. She couldn't even think how overwhelmed Draco would've been.

It kept her warm for the coming days. When the two saw each other in the hallways, Hermione would cover her blushing cheeks behind her books, and Draco would smirk slyly. They couldn't wait to see each other again, maybe private. But Hermione secretly wished was that Ron or even Cormac would be near to frustrate them.

The common room was barely warm from the steaming fire in the small stone opening. It crackled pleasingly and gave company to Hermione who was snuggled up on the couch, her nose in the book that Draco had given her. She was comforted. The constant reminder of Draco was imprinted in the book in her hands, as it begun to hold the faint smell of him. Strange, she thought.

Feet thumped down the stairs from the boy's dormitory, and Hermione was too familiar with the heavy-footed creature. With ginger hair spiking up in every direction possible, he groggily took the spot next to her who watched him in disgust.

Ron looked over at her to eye to the book in her hands, nose scrunching up and bitterly squinting his eyes. "Why are you reading that so late at night?" he questioned.

"Light reading" Hermione returned quietly and politely. She barely batted an eyelid at his immature behaviour. "You should know well enough, Ronald Weasley, of my fondness of reading and perfecting each class."

The book was snatched from her grasp with the bookmark slowly falling out from between the pages. Hermione went to yell at his rude and abrupt actions, but froze when he lifted the bookmark, eyes scratching into it harshly.

Lifting it up, he quizzically asked "What's this?"

It was letter in which was attached to the book – the very one from Draco. The writing was scribbled on the front with his familiar writing, and appeared to be familiar to Ron as well. Hermione noticed his familiarity as he suddenly stood with the book clattering to the ground and Ron holding out the letter accusingly. He was furious; if not, more.

"Why is Draco Malfoy giving you gifts?" he bellowed. "What is going on?"

Hermione jumped to her feet and snatch away her possessions, afraid of Ron wildly ripping it up. They held too much significance to Hermione. She didn't want to lose them, as she held the fear it would snap her connection with Draco in half.

"None of your bloody business" she bit harshly, standing her ground. "What does it matter to you, anyway?"

"Matter to me? We are best friends, Hermione. We tell each other stuff."

"I would rather rip my nails out than tell you everything" she shouted back. "You make me feel pathetic and hopeless and you disapprove of everything good that happens in my life. Can't you be an actual friend and do that at least once for me?"

Ron was flabbergasted with his hands limply hanging by his side, eyes wide and mouth slightly jarred open. No words were in the late air as Hermione fumed. It wasn't long until she stormed off out of the common room, and towards the courtyard.

The snow melted into her sock as her tears melted into her sleeve. Yes, she was cold. But she was too upset to even object. Somehow, it gave her a sense of comfort feeling the icicles settle on her skin to only send a stream of cold kisses up her legs.