I love you Mudblood : a Dramione fanfiction

~one~

As the rustling of the gentle breeze forced Hermione's eyes to unlatch, she awoke with a sudden but gleeful jump. She couldn't help but present one thought into her complex mind. Or rather, one person. She leaped off her comforters, fuelled by the abstraction of hopefulness rushing through her imagination. She twirled, and she frolicked. Hermione decided to dress up for the first proper day of magical schooling in her sixth year. She straightened her missheveled hair in hopes to conjure attention from a pair of special gray eyes. While readying her hair, she began again traveling deep into a void of wonderment, whose end seemed always a little afar, but was always miraged to be pushed back the further to it you got. She wondered what this year might have in stock for the three friends. Ron seemed to be enjoying the short-running fame that passed again and again before him, while harry was purely and truthfully exhausted. She wondered what Draco might be doing that very moment. She wondered what her vivid dream would've meant to Draco, though she'd never willingly or consciously admit to having wondered about Draco Malfoy. The dream consisted of a flashback Hermione swore never to forget, for it's divinity was too romantic as to be cast aside.

~Flashback~

" Give it back, you moron! I'm telling you, you will face dire consequences!", yelled Hermione, with the tiniest hint of a maroon tint appearing on her soft cheeks.

"What are you gonna do? Tell McGonagall? I doubt it 'Mione!", laughed Draco, irrevocably resisting to return Hermione's Potions Handbook.

"I've told you about a gazillion not be associate me with that pathetic nickname you've famously given me! You drive me mad, Malfoy, mad!", Hermione stomped. She'd preferred for the quarrel to last as long as it could be, but was short-lived when Crabbe entered the scene.

"What the bloody hell going on now between you lot. You're already married, you know, fighting like that. Everyone knows it. ", pronounced Crabbe, "You know it too, Draco, don't you?", he inched closer to Malfoy's now flushed face. Draco regained his posture and the blushing face had rapidly disappeared.

"Don't you forget yourself, you ferret! I should send you to Madam Pomfrey, by the look of your disturbingly shattered mentality!", spat Draco. Teasing about the famed sweethearts of the school was quite common, but it was never to be said directly to or in front of Draco Malfoy. Most everyone but the two accepted that they liked each other, Though, truly, deep within, a dense longing for each other lay in both of their hearts.

Behind the infuriated Malfoy stood Pansy Parkinson. Pansy, sneakingly hiding behind the tree bench, with a cruel but loud giggle, shoved Draco. Draco stumbled on his feet and landed downwards, toppling on the nimble figure of Hermione. Hermione fell on the hard ground, with the added mass of Draco Malfoy on her chest. Malfoy had subconsciously wrapped his arms around Granger's waist, with his thumb pressed between the courtyard floor and Hermione's lower back. His other hand lay on her rapidly rising and falling stomach. A little of Hermione's sweater had ridden up, exposing a slit of bare skin, where his pinky finger lay. Draco's face lay in the crook of her neck. She smelled of a fruity magnolian scent. As Draco lifted his head, his colorless hair fell on Hermione's flushed face. He studied her gentle face as she stared into the depths of the grey eyes inches away from her brown ones. His hearing seemed to fade anything that wasn't the beating of Hermione's heart or the loud breaths she took, eager to stop the blood rushing to her obviously pink face. His eyes traveled to the slightly concave curve from her forehead to her nose. The surface of her cheek had never looked so smooth as it did to him that day. Without intending to do so, he glanced at the perfect shape of her red lips. He could feel her pulse, he could feel the softness of her flesh. He fought back the urge to never let go, to remain entangled as though they were in a world where time could pause, but emotions could not.

As if knocked out of a trance, the two cleared their throats at the exact same time, although neither made a movement to split from their position, until seconds later, when Hermione winced. She wasn't wincing at being close to Draco, no. She winced because of the excruciating pain that shot through her back. Draco immediately came to the realization his hand was also throbbing, being under Hermione's lower back, it cushioned her fall in that area. He was filled with guilt to have caused Hermione any sort of pain, and his expression clearly showcased that thought.

He got up in a manner, that it looked like he was performing a push-up. Hermione had found this very arousing. the knowledge of his defined muscles tensing was sure to give Granger a flock of Butterflies. Even beneath the school robes, Draco's toned arms were quite successfully displayed. He stretched out a guilty hand (the unbroken one) towards Hermione. She silently took hold of his strong hand, and pulled herself off the ground. She cringed again. Her back really did hurt.

Suddenly, as if he had just became aware that other people were watching and witnessing the situation, his face turned into a fake expression of angriness.

"Well, bloody, get on then! What are you all staring at? nothing to watch after here! Move along, people, move along!", Draco hissed. He glared at Crabbe and Parkinson before hurrying away.

Later that day, just after Herbology class, Draco waited till Hermione packed her things and headed for the door. As she exited the greenhouse, Draco pushed himself and her onto a concrete pillar directly outside. He placed his forearm in a bent way on the pillar, right above Hermione's head. Impossibly, it seemed to her they were closer now than on the courtyard before. She dropped her books, causing Draco to smirk.

"I know what you're doing, Muggle. Don't try making this a habit.", whispered Draco,"It wouldn't be very", he paused for a second, "healthy.", he said with a lingering tone.

~Flashback~

As she remembered that memory, she felt she was sniffing a scent of smoke, as though something were burning. Shoot! Her irresponsible fantasy had forced to momentarily forget the fact she was using heat to straighten her hair. It wasn't very noticeable, the burn, but the numerous strands of hair hung stiff.

Descending down the Gryffindor Common Room stairs, she felt like a swan parading towards a bliss. She found the familiar face of Ron looking up at her in glee. She rushed to him and clasped her arms around him.

"You're suffocatin' me, Hermione! By golly, surely you haven't been receiving me letters, eh? I reckon you didn't, my owl's got a bit of a bruised wing. Didn't deliver a quarter of the letters I had sent her out for."

"How much have you been eating! Molly's been stuffing you again, hasn't she?", laughed Hermione.

"I'm afraid it was all him, Hermione. All day he couldn't stop eating those Christmas cookies from last year", explained Harry, while coming out of his dorm. He stayed over at the Weasley House this summer. He couldn't possibly be forced to live with his dreadful aunt and her dreadful family. Hermione had offered up her house to him, but the only problem was her muggle parents. They couldn't handle two magical children in their house, when they barely grasped the concept of Hogwarts!

"Harry!", exclaimed Hermione, excitedly while running into his arms. After exchanging greetings the students of Gryffindor headed to the Great Dining Hall. Meals on the first day were always a feast, while Dumbledore would introduce teachers and prepare a toast. Hermione was afraid the wise headmaster might speak of 'dark times await us' and 'we must prepare'. She was frightened by the thought of the Dark Lord returning, Harry had witnessed his transformation last year, in the Triwizard Tournament. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had murdered Cedric Diggory. She shuddered at the thought.

"You know, I heard from Seamus about Draco.", said Ron, while chewing a cookie. Where he got that cookie from, no one will ever know.

Hermione's ears perked up."Oh?", she curiously questioned.

"Yeah, apparently he's arriving a day late, that Draco. Dean conspired he was meeting up with You-Know-Who. It's a legitimate rumor now.", explained the stuffed Weasley.

" Dean and his need for attention. There's no such thing. Merely a rumor, alright?", Hermione quickly stated. Harry seemed to look a bit uneasy, as though the topic made HIM uncomfortable. Quickly forgetting the earlier conversation, the three marveled at the beautifully lit Dining Hall. Ron's eyes seemed to linger a little longer on the roasted turkey. Hermione stole a glance from the Slytherin table with no hint of Draco.

As the students took their places, Dumbledore began his glorious speech and the hat sorting for newly enrolled students began...