Hermione just stood there in the snow, watching him walk away. She saw him run a hand through his hair and ball up his fists. He really was tormented. She felt a tear trickle down her cheeks, rosy from the chill. Even if he was twisted and tortured inside how could he say something so horrible? He should at least try to change; he does want to change, doesn’t he? Everything was running through her mind and she didn’t know what to think, she just stared at him hoping he would turn around and apologise. She stared until his figure disappeared behind the curtain of snow.
“Damn you Draco…” She let out a sob and trudged back to the castle, her damp feet growing colder with each step.
She couldn’t take it personally, he has been moulded into this person his whole life, the last few years in particular. Still, it doesn’t mean that it hurts any less. She wiped her eyes and when she reached the common room she curled up in front of the fire and sobbed.
He had called her a mudblood, pathetic, he had spent nights with Pansy and let her talk down to her, and yet she couldn’t get him out of her mind. She wanted to comfort him even though he was the one doing the stomping.
She couldn’t let what he said get to her. She took out a piece of parchment and scribbled her note before placing the enchantments on it and sending it flying out through the portrait of the fat lady.
Draco was pacing the dormitory now, too many emotions in his body to count. He was angry at her; angry because she wanted to see them. He hated them, maybe it was because they had an actual bond with one another while Crabbe hadn’t even bothered to speak to him since the end of last year, when he left Hogwarts to do… he didn’t even know. And Goyle… obviously Draco was upset about his death, but more about the fact that he had known him for seven years than the fact that he was his friend.
Draco didn’t have friends like Harry, Ron and Hermione. There was never intimacy, or much loyalty, when it came down to it they were ‘save your own skin before the other’ kind of “friends”. Deep down he did long for someone to be himself with, someone to just… be with and not have motives.
He hated picturing the three of them in the common room, sitting by the red and gold fire just laughing and joking with one another. He hated it. He hated even more imagining Hermione feel the way he did with her when she was with someone else. He wasn’t special, he wasn’t anything new, and he was just another one to add to her collection.
He wasn’t special to her, she felt like that all the time.
He headed down to the fire and began pacing in front of it. He must have been pacing for at least five minutes when a little flying piece of parchment began throwing itself at his face and no matter how much he batted it away it wouldn’t stop until he grabbed it in his hand.
He unfurled the yellowing paper and read the short note; 7:30. That was it, just a time. He knew what it meant and he held it tightly for a few seconds before throwing it into the fire and watching it burn from the outside in.
Hermione sat in the room of requirement on a velvety red couch. The was a fireplace on one side of the room and a large bed with warm blankets and glasses of pumpkin juice that she had pilfered from the great hall sitting on a bedside table. The walls were decorated with bouquets of roses.
She looked down at her pocket watch. It was nearly twenty past eight. Surely he was just held up; he didn’t mean what he said.
Of course not, he just needs time, she told herself. Minutes passed and she tested out her patronus, and then her transfiguration, and then her charms. Minutes turned into another hour. It wasn’t long before she found it hard to conjure her patronus.
He wasn’t going to show up.
As she left the room she tried to pick herself up. It would never have worked anyway, they were just too different.
But they had something, didn’t they? She thought about seeing her friends tomorrow but somehow nothing would cheer her up at this point. She felt something with him, different, special… and it turns out it was just a little nothing. He said it didn’t he? It was nothing.
She couldn’t help but let the tears flow as she tried to fall asleep.
It was so much more than nothing to her.
YOU ARE READING
Hermione and Draco, a Forbidden Fantasy (Dramione) - Completed
Fiksi PenggemarHe was left broken, with no hope of ever putting himself together, until she entered his life. He never thought that life could be so rich and that she could make him feel the way she does. This is a love story about two people who were drawn togeth...
