When Draco Malfoy turned up on the Order's doorstep with Harry, everyone welcomed him with open arms. They trusted him. But, not Hermione. She knew better; he was up to something. She wasn't quite prepared for what that something was. Or how she'd feel about it after.
"I just don't understand. Why... why Malfoy?" She was scrubbing the dishes in front of her the muggle way, a habit she did when she was nervous, uncomfortable, or angry. And now, with her fiancé red in the face and not meeting her eye, she was all three. "He's..." From her peripheral she watched him run a shaking hand...
Malfoy's handsome face was contoured into a condescending smirk. "No faith in that giant brain of yours, Granger?" She looked up at him defiantly. "Maybe I don't have any faith in you!" she said, raising her voice. Malfoy only looked at her. You'll find I'm very surprising. Dramione AU, canon divergence, year 6 with a...
How did it feel? It felt like he was barely holding it together. She, of all people, should shun him. Or yell at him. Curse him. Spit at him. Take out her wand and blast him off the face of the earth. It was crushing guilt and relief and confusion all at once when he looked at Hermione Granger. The monotony of Draco's...
Hermione felt the pounding in her ears again. She would see him for the first time since the Great Hall, gaunt and stricken at the Slytherin table with his mother clutching his arm. She hadn't meant to look for him. Not in the corridors, not beneath the white sheets of the fallen, not on the way to the Chamber of Secr...