Dramione: An Impossible Fantasy [Being Edited]

Chapter 20: Escaped Dragon

DRACO

THE DAILY PROPHET

Two days ago, a hysterical muggle reported sightings of a dragon to the local community. Most Muggles dubbed the woman as mad, but wizards were in the vicinity and heard. Investigating further, the six wizards found that a Chinese Fireball dragon was indeed found rampaging through the nearby town.

Though the Ministry is at loss why a Fireball is so far from it's native environment, Wizards were dispatched to find the dragon, but are yet unable to track it down, as it seems to be hiding from humans. However, wizards are advised to stay away from the Fireball, as it is known for eating mammals- preferably humans.

I fold up the paper, frowning. Before I can think about it further, though, Blaise asks, "So... trying out for Quidditch?"

The thought of Quidditch immediately makes me remember the kiss - or almost kiss - last night, and my face flames red. "Shut up." I roll my eyes. "You know that I won't."

"Is the deal off then?" Blaise asks eagerly, his face bright.

"No," I say shortly, remembering the bet we had when we first came to Hogwarts.

"How are you going to do it then?"

"Okay, fine, whatever," I snap, trying to get away from his boring stare.

I stomp out of the Great Hall, still thinking about the dragon. I'm about to go back to Blaise and tell him to do it himself, when I see a flash of brown hair.

It's Hermione Granger.

Without further ado I'm rushing down the corridor, and when I reach the pitch, I pray that she didn't see me.

She doesn't. I don't know whether to be relieved or not. Without looking back, I rush into the Quidditch pitch and line up with the rest of the Slytherins. I know I must look really stupid, coming to the auditions without a broom, but I try to hide amongst the silver and green of the Slytherins staring at me.

When a dark haired boy comes striding onto the pitch, the Slytherins mutter and step back. Harry Potter frowns at all of us. "What are you doing on the pitch? I personally scheduled the pitch for eight o'clock," he complains.

The captain begins to argue with Potter and soon the Quidditch pitch has turned into a shouting match. I inch out of the line of fire and watch from the sides as Potter wins and the Slytherins disperse reluctantly.

I catch a glimpse of the Weasel and Hermione - apparently the his friends has come to watch. The blonde girl, Angie or something, has also come along, clutching a Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

Hermione catches my eye and looks away at once, her face flaring red. I turn pink, too. It's hard to stop staring at her lips, and I notice that she bites her lower lip as she watches the blonde and the Weasel walk onto the pitch.

I sidle onto the stands, pretending to watch the auditions. A few Slytherins still shoot me looks, but I pretend not to see. "Granger, I didn't see you there," I say in mock surprise.

She stares back at me, her face tired. "What are you doing here, Draco?"

She called me Draco. That's a good thing, right?

"Watching the trials," I reply casually. "That reminds me - is your boyfriend trying out for keeper again?" There's something of an ache when I say that word, and wonder if I ate too much for breakfast.

"Boyfriend," she says softly. "Yes, I suppose," she replies, her gaze on the blonde girl.

"And that other girl - Angelina - "

"Her name is Angela. And yes, she's trying out for Chaser."

We sit in silence as we both watch Angela successfully throwing the Quaffle several times into the goal hoops.

"Would you," Hermione suddenly bursts out, "Force Pansy to play Quidditch? And get mad if she didn't?"

I'm taken aback at the question, and shrug. "I don't care that much about Ms. Pugface - I'm not dating her," I nonchalantly.

Her eyes widen slightly, but she continues. "Well, if you had a girlfriend, would you get angry at her if she wouldn't play Quidditch?"

Then I understand: her bitter looks at the Weasel, her angry glares at Angela. "Ah," I say wisely. "Are you having boy problems?"

"Shut up," she replies, but I can tell her heart isn't in it. And then, with a mad rush, she explodes. "Ronald is a complete idiot!"

"Do enlighten me," I say sarcastically as the Weaslette scores.

She falls silent, however, watching Ginny curiously. "She loves him, you know that?" She tells me softly. Hermione's eyes are glistening with tears, but her voice remains controlled.

"The Weaslette loves Potty?"

"So much," she replies, looking like her heart is breaking. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do with Ron - he's just so..."

"Let's leave," I say softly, and she stands up without looking me. We're both marching back into Hogwarts, and then she stops at an empty classroom. "He doesn't deserve you," I say hopefully as she strides inside, slamming the door shut.

For a second I wonder if I should just leave her alone. She obviously wants to be. But I shake my head. Everyone's at the trials. No one's around to make her feel better.

Coming to a decision, I open it and see her crying - without any noise, but crying. I'm astounded at the sight before me, of Hermione crying, but I don't say anything. "He's being an idiot. He'll realize sooner or later that you're the smartest, the prettiest..."

I trail off as she looks at me. Even when she was in Malfoy Manor, bloodied and dirty, she looked beautiful, like an angel that came down to earth. Even when she's crying, I'm entranced by her face, by her soft, brown eyes, by her tinkling laugh, by -

And then she says softly, "You think I'm pretty?"

My heart is pounding harder than ever, and I know that when we leave the common room, everything, everything will be different. We're crossing a line that we can never come back to.

"No," I breathe slowly, the word coming out as a whisper. Something flashes in her eyes, almost like disappointment, and then I walk closer.

I'm acting on impulse now. Nothing, not even a hundred years of preparation, could tell me what to do.

Her mouth is hanging slightly open, and I lean over, my hand outstretched. She doesn't flinch away. My hand touches her cheek.

I cup one side of her face, and I whisper, "I think you're beautiful."

And I do. Somewhere, between all these agonizing weeks, I've stopped thinking about her as the lowly mudblood and started to respect her. Hate into respect -

Respect into love.

Can I call it that? This little crush, love? I want to laugh at myself for thinking that. Crush. I don't crush on people. But that thought is sent away as our faces come closer.

Somewhere along the seconds she's stopped crying.

Can I call this skip in my chest everytime I see her love? Can I call the burst of longing when I see her face love?

But every thought is wiped from my mind when my lips touch hers - so soft - and we're kissing.

My eyes close and I know that if I died at that moment, I'd be the happiest person on earth. My hands wrap around her and we move closer - closer - closer...

(Hi, again! You're probably wondering why I'm updating so early- the truth is, I'm just amazed at how many reads I have. So even though this chapter will be shorter than normal, I still want you to read and enjoy. Don't worry, this book won't just be about love. The dragon's important too- you'll come to see so in the next few chapters. Thank you for the 16K and the 935 votes! Let's make it 1K!)