𝟑 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝟖 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: 𝐈 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮
The moments leading up to heartbreak were the happiest she feels she’d ever been. Minus some few occurrences where she got irritated with a certain daft, dimbo who constantly had googly eyes over Ron. Hermione had only found out recently that somewhere inside her, she fancied him, and why all the sudden was something she couldn’t possibly begin to even understand. The three teenagers sat at the Gryffindor table. Hermione sat nervously, but hid it rather well. They talked over their meals, but she remained rather quiet. Her eyes kept lifting to the curly haired, fair-skinned, Lavender Brown.
Hermione couldn’t help but feel herself grow self conscious over the way she looked and perhaps she wouldn’t be good enough for Ron. Maybe he didn’t see her the way that she had seen him. She had maintained her mane, it was no longer that frizzy mess she had from first and second year, thank Merlin’s beard for those magical charms that Ginny taught her, no wonder why Ginny’s hair never looked as though humidity had striked down onto it. But compared to her and Lavender, well, Lavender had the perfect, curled ringlets that bounced so freely, and if anything. Her hair looked happier—healthier by far, compared to her own. Even the girl's skin was soft looking, with rosey pink apple cheeks. It was unfair. Hermione had bags beneath her eyes from late night studies. Wanting to beat her marks from last year was stressful. She’s never been the one to care for her appearance. Ever.
“Hello? Mione?” Ron waved his hand in front of her face, and as she was pulled from her thoughts. Hermione shook her head, closing her eyes briefly out of embarrassment for losing track of time in a depressing daydream. Her eyebrows furrowed slowly as her eyes went to lift to stare up at Ron. “Sorry, I— what?” A hand came up to scratch at the side of her head. “Blimey, Hermione. I asked you if you were coming to my game later?” Ron repeated as he looked from Hermione to Harry, who was now looking at Hermione after returning the look to Harry. She frowned at his response, of course, what kind of ‘friend’ would she be if she didn’t go to her two best friends game? “Course’ how could you possibly ask me such a thing? Please. That would be really sad if I did not make it to my best friends game, wouldn’t you say? Silly of you to ask, Ron.” She shook her head, gathered her stuff to put inside her bag and stood up. “See you guys later!” The words tumbled out as she hurried out of the Great Hall.
“Whaddya reckon got into her?” Ron asked Harry, taking a huge bite full of food.
Harry’s eyes remained towards the large, open ornate doors to the Great Hall where she had disappeared out of before turning his head just the slightest to look at Ron. “You know, I’m not quite sure, Ron.” He answered honestly with a shrug.
The day went by quicker than Hermione had imagined. It was around that time for the Quidditch match. Everyone was making their way to the stands, including the very girl that Hermione loathed in secret, yet envied. But why? She wasn’t a threat, or so she thought. But the moment the game started, and things started to pick up. Her eyes couldn’t move from Ron. It’s as if there was a target at the center of his forehead where the Bludger would hit. Despite the Liquid Luck that Harry had slipped him——she was still worried, anytime the hard hit of the beater from another time, she got more anxious, almost falling right off her seat. Sure, if Colin Creevey was here snapping shots of everyone in the match itself and on the stands. Her faces would have contorted into all sorts of unappealing expressions.
Meanwhile; Lavender was bouncing off her seat whenever Ron did something amazing—then squealing when the Bludger came close to hitting him. Hermione had rolled her eyes at this, as she was the silent one. Why was this girl getting her so on edge, when she was already off the cliff at this point. Then, Gryffindor was cheering, people around were cheering and Ron had a proud look on his face, his ego had been stroked and he seemed to beam with light. As if he was the sun, and in her eyes, Hermione’s eyes… he was just that. He was the light in a dark room, no matter how daft he could truly be sometimes, but yet always came up with brilliant ideas, at times. She knew that it was the Liquid Luck that got him through this game, he wasn’t very coordinated on a broom.
Gryffindor won. Ron had won them their game and from this day forward he was their King. The Weasley King. Cheering, laughter, and some people screaming filled the Gryffindor common room. Ron was beaming with happiness and joy, red confetti was shot up and fell all around everyone. In that moment, it was as if the whole room went in slow motion in Hermione’s eyes and the only thing that caught her eye was Ron. With his bright blue eyes, and big smile that spread happily from ear to ear, the kind of smile that meets the eye and glimmers. Right there was when she fell for how happy he looked, and how proud. He deserved that.
Harry came to her side with a wide grin of his own that almost matched hers. Her cheeks grew warm, and her neck felt hot. Was she blushing? She couldn’t really tell, nor did she appear to care right now. Her head slanted to the side just a bit, before side glancing in Harry’s direction.
“You know you shouldn't have done that.”
Of course, Harry went off about her using the confundus charm and she reprimanded him with a sharp tone, but all while she explained herself he pulled out a small odd looking clear bottle that was still full of its contents. Liquid Luck. He didn’t actually give it to Ron.
Harry raised an eyebrow just barely as she stammered. “Didn’t put it in?” He helped.
“But he thought you did?” She looked incredulous for a split second as she looked back to Ron, seeing Harry nod from beside her.
And that’s when everything sped up to the moment where she felt her heart break before her. That same moment when that bimbo, Lavender tapped her way into Ron’s space and clung herself to him. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, pressing her body flush against his and closed the distance between their lips. To him, it probably felt like waves crashing all over him and making his blood boil—filled with warmth. While Hermione stood there, chest raising and falling in a rapid manner, her breath shaky. The room all the sudden felt claustrophobic with all these bodies. Is this what it feels like when someone you fancied was kissing another? Like your heart being torn from the chest cavity, thrown on the ground and stomped on rapidly? So, this explains why she couldn’t breathe. Why once in her life couldn't she be enough for him—someone.
Tears welled in her eyes, she slowly backed up and that’s when they fell down her cheek. Staining all the way down to her chin until they rolled off and fell to the floor, abandoned. Much like she had been. She escaped the room as fast as she could, got as far away as she could manage. Her vision was blurred as she ran through the tiki lit corridors, the cold breeze kissed her face and burned. But it wasn’t as bad as the way her chest felt. It was caving in on her, getting harder for her to breathe and thankfully her feet moved accordingly, because she’d surely be tripping over herself or something.
Hermione couldn’t get the picture of Lavender pulling Ron in, and then kissing out of her head. It was as though it were red wine, stained on a white shirt and if you rubbed it in, it only made it worse. That’s how it was inside her mind, she continued trying to wipe it away, to get rid of it and erase it but it just wasn’t going anywhere. She wanted to throw things, to scream, to cry and punch. Even for a moment, a flash of something morbid crossed her mind but she forbid to think about that. It was preposterous. She hated him, she hated Lavender. They were quite perfect for eachother. Yet, she couldn’t help but be envious of that sniveling… Well, best not even go there.
One step, two steps and down the rest of the stairs into a small little alcove at the bottom of the stairs. The breeze thrusted into the area, and it only felt colder because the window was open and it was snowing out. Instead of sitting down, she went over towards the window and stood by it. Her chocolate colored eyes stared blankly out into the distance, she crawled up… she didn’t want to do anything stupid, but she wanted to feel adrenaline, like the type you feel when you’re on the edge of a cliff and it’s like your fight or flight kicks in. She guessed after having her heart stomped on, she wanted to feel alive. Living on the edge.
Merlin, she hoped that nobody came across her because they’d think that she was trying off herself and that’s not the case here. Not one bit. But that’s where it had all taken a turn for the worse. Ron was happier with Lavender. “Good for you, Ronald.” She whispered softly, the snow reflected in her eyes as if they were mirrors. It’s just how glossy they had become from crying so much.
“What are you doing?” A monotone cold voice came from somewhere behind her, and it had startled her so much that she basically twisted her ankle just to turn around and look but there she was falling, before she had fallen out the window there was a sharp pain around her wrist, long, pale fingers, cold to the touch had yanked her back from the edge, and into this person. She shrieked, and gasped from the rather fast, swift movements. It’s as if an Angel swooped in here, and pulled her back from the edge. Her forehead was against their chest, her eyes were tightly closed together and when she slowly opened one only to see all black attire, her other eye snapped open as she took note of the rather expensive looking Dragonhide shoes. Her breath caught in her throat, because she felt that she’d be hexed down right then and there or worse—thrown out the window.
When reality finally hit her, her heart racing rapidly and her hands came up to push at the arms of this person, backing away quickly only to notice the whole black tailored suit, pointy sharp chin, aristocrat features, alabaster skin, pale and stormy colored eyes, platinum blonde hair.
Draco bloody Malfoy. Are you kidding? This was the last person that she needed seeing her in this state. This is the last person she didn’t need to hear any snide, disgusting comment from. Except, the ‘Mudblood’ comments stopped around the end of third, fourth year? Everything was a blur to her.
“It’s not what you think!” The words slid out quickly, trying to shut down whatever he may have felt the need to say.
His eyebrow arched, while the other slowly knitted into the arched brow. “And what makes you think I’m thinking anything at all?” He inquired, speculating closely to her facial expressions.
“I—“ She spluttered. Her face pinched into an expression of anger while her arms crossed over her chest. “What are you doing here anyways, Malfoy?” She anxiously swapped weight from her left foot to her right while looking elsewhere. Waiting for his response.
Draco sighed. “I happened to be in the area. Is that a problem, Granger?” In all honesty, he had been heading his way up to the Astronomy Tower. But hearing someone crying and running caught his attention, but even then, he saw her and why he even bothered to save her was something he was questioning.
Hermione was taken back by surprise at the use of her surname, so much as a shock that she backed up just a tad. Not Mudblood? Where was the old Malfoy that she knew? The smug little prat who ran around the school thinking he was better than everyone else, including her best friend Harry. Despite who it was keeping her mind occupied, the image of Lavender and Ron kissing was in the distance, getting pushed further.
“Huh? Oh, right.” She shook her head. “No, it’s not a problem. Just can’t see you being someone to come to someone’s aid—I wasn’t trying to do whatever it is you’re thinking!” She stomped her foot, thrusting her pointer finger at him.
“You mean pitching yourself out that window?” He jutted his head in the direction of the window as if to gesture to it—Hermione turned to look over her shoulder with narrowed eyes.
“I wasn’t going to..” She mumbled, letting her eyes fall to the ground as she backed up towards the window to look out into the distance, this time not on the edge.
“Right. Then what exactly was it you were doing?”
Hermione sniffled, her eyes watered and she hated that she was crying in front of him. She hated looking weak in front of him, or anyone for that matter, really. That’s probably why Ron hadn’t truly noticed her, either that or he was despiteful, and trying to make her jealous. Which was working. Oh, it was working.
“You know that feeling?” She started—
“—I know a lot of feelings.” Draco drolled, and when Hermione turned her head to glare at him. He smirked. She pursed her lips, shook her head and looked back out the window.
“No—the feeling of wanting to be on the edge. That—“ She sniffled. “You want to feel adrenaline running through your body after something terrible has happened. That’s what I was doing, I wanted to feel something else—“ She jutted her chin. “—Something other than what I–, I have been feeling.” She explained, sniffling, bringing a hand up with her sleeve above her hand to use as a Kleenex to wipe away the corner of her eyes as tears fell. “That’s truly all that, that was.”
Draco’s hands slipped into the pockets of his trousers as he stepped closer to the window, looking out the window. Hermione lifted her eyes to look up at him, as the moon casted through the window and painted a pale glow upon his skin. She had never noticed it before, but he looked truly beautiful. As if a god had sculpted him purely of grey, marbled stone, or perhaps even ice.
And then what came out of his mouth was what she was not ready for, not even what she had been expecting. At that moment, her breath had been ripped from her. “What?” She sounded out of breath, it was a sharp and quick, unbelievable tone.
“Merlin, Granger. Stop the gears from turning in your head and actually listen for once, why don’t you?” He hissed. “Excu–“ He glanced at her, and the look that he had given was all that was needed to shut her the hell up. It was a glare that said. ‘Shut up, or I’ll throw you out this bloody window.’ Or even.. ‘Shut up, or I’ll shut you up.’ Her lips pressed into a thin line, as if zip locking them shut. “As I was saying. I want to show you something. Do you fancy a midnight stroll?”
But before Hermione could even take what he said and maul over it, let alone respond. There was giggling coming from the top of the stairs, and shadows emerged at the bottom of the stairs. There it was, that twinge at her heartstrings all over again. She glared, as the tears welled in her eyes again. She had barely glanced up at Malfoy to see that he was looking at Ron, with Lavender hanging onto him.
“Everythin’ all right, Hermione?” Ron asked, looking at her and then moving his eyes over to Draco. His jaw tensed. “He botherin’ you?”
“Oh, please. Don’t act like you care all of a sudden, Ronald.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hermione scoffed, the tears fell and she quickly swatted them away. Draco just looked at her and Ron.
“What did you do to her, Malfoy? So, help me, I’ll—“
“Ron, it wasn’t—“ Hermione started, but was cut off. She glanced over to Draco, her eyebrows furrowing.
“What did I do to her?” Draco repeated. “I don’t think this has anything to do with me. I’m not here making her cry this time. But please, don’t let us stop you from sneaking off and having a snog sesh with that one, Weaselby.” He jutted his chin in the direction of the girl that clung to him like he was her lifeboat.
“Just go, Ron!” Hermione shrieked, sending the coldest stare that she could muster even though her eyes already hurt and bet that they were bloodshot from how much she’s cried already.
Ron looked from Draco to Hermione, clenched his fists, opened them and repeated a couple times. Contemplating if he should really stay, or go. “Go!” Hermione yelled, stepping forward as if she was going to push him but he backed up and Lavender dragged him along. “Leave it, she’s handled.” Lavender mutters, and then it was just silence. Just her and Draco.
Draco’s footsteps were the first thing that broke the silence as he walked over towards the stairs. “Where are you going?” Hermione stepped forward with a hand out to grasp him, but thought better on it and dropped her hand back at her side. “You mean where are we going? I said that I wanted to show you something. I’ll leave it up to you to follow or not, if you’d rather sit in your agonizing sobs, then by all means. Stay.” And with that, he disappeared up the stairs.
Hermione just stood there in stunned silence with her lips parted, repeatedly blinking her eyes. What was happening? Was she dreaming? Perhaps this was just all one big nightmare and none of this is really happening, maybe she still had a chance to act fast and get with Ron. Right? She pinched her upper arm skin over her clothing in between her thumb and index finger, wincing but to her dismay, it was not a dream, nor nightmare. This was real; and Draco Malfoy wanted to show her something. Draco Malfoy was being nice to her, what the…
She shook her head incredulously and made her way up the stairs as quickly as she could, and when she got to the top her shoulders slumped when Draco was no longer in sight. Perhaps she had taken too long? Hermione dropped her head, wiping at her face again. “Are you coming?” The voice startled her, a hand lay across her chest as she could feel her beating heart. “Malfoy! You scared me!” She blurted, seeing him emerge from the shadows with a smug smirk playing over his lips. “That was the point, idiot.”
They walked down the corridor in silence. Hermione stayed behind a little ways, and she couldn’t help but watch the back of his head. He walked with his hands in his pockets, and his walk was almost swaggered, he even walked like a damn god. Was it just her, or did having a heartbreak make her… desperate?
Malfoy had brought her to the Astronomy Tower. He had crossed the distance to the balcony, Hermione not too far behind him but she was slower. She had to admire the way that the moon had casted that pale glow into the shallow darkness. It was colder up here, and she wasn’t really properly dressed for this. But this? This view was immaculate. Her breath came out in a sharp exhale at the beauty of it. The snow falling, it was like you were thrown into winter wonderland, a complete white out. Finally, she came to his side on the balcony. Her hand came up to the snow covered bar, it was cold and it caused her to wince… but she didn’t even care. This was the spot, this was the place and in that moment it was everything. Even if it was next to her best friends nemesis, the person who hated her for her blood. Something that she couldn’t help, but was proud of herself either way.
“It’s… beautiful.” She whispered into the cold air.
Draco didn’t speak for a moment as he stood beside her. His hands came to the bar, not just one but both of them and his storm colored eyes wandered over the snowy plains of the ground far below. “Why were you crying?” Was the question that she didn’t want to have to answer, but perhaps talking about it wouldn’t hurt anyone, unless of course, Draco made fun of her.
“Does it really matter to you?”
“No, not really. But, I’d rather not look at you and see those gears behind your eyes running. You’re in your head too much, you think too much, and you’re talking less—I’m used to the Know-it-All who’s always raising her hand in class, talking whenever she gets the chance. Now, you’re just a mouse, with the only sound of that, a squeak.”
He knew when she was thinking, but how? Someone would have to take a great deal of observing to get that much detail. How did he seem to know when those ‘gears’ were spinning though? Had he always watched her, or?
“There you go again. Really, Granger? Come out with it already. I ain’t got all night.”
Draco didn’t even need to look at her to know that she was thinking about something, Hermione was honestly speechless—she didn’t know how to feel, or what to think, and that seemed to stop the thoughts…for all of a second and then they were back. But then Draco’s stance shifted, his fingers grazed hers by accident, or was it? But either way, she hissed at the impact of the snow that fell onto her hand from the rail when he moved his hand. Hermione looked up at him, ripping her hand away from the bar and rubbing them together, and there he was, looking at her with a sharp, cold glare, or the type of glare that says… ‘really? I’ll throw snow on you.’
“Fine. Alright.” She held her hands up in surrender. “It isn’t really all that important.” She shook her head, a laugh or a scoff, or a mix of both slipped out. “Lavender kissed Ron.” And there it was, out in the open and it hung there in the air longer than she feels it should’ve. Silence.
“You’re crying because Brown kissed Weasley?” Draco asked with an eyebrow raised.
“So, that’s who you smelled in your Amortentia? Mowed grass, spearmint toothpaste, parchment?”
Hermione’s cheeks burned. She couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or from blushing.
“Please.” He rolled his eyes, scrunched his nose and curled his lip. “That isn’t even a subject to be crying over.”
“What—what would you know about it? Do you even fancy anyone? Have you smelt anyone in your Amortentia besides your own damn self?” Hermione’s words slid out like venom. “Ha,” She laughed once, an incredulous type. “I can’t imagine anything like it—honestly—Draco Malfoy fancying someone.” She shook her head and began to walk off but her wrist was caught, and she knew it was him stopping her from walking away. She ripped her hand free, and formed both fists at her side.
“You don’t get to just make fun of me for crying over Ron who I fancy, kissing another girl. You couldn’t possibly know how it feels as I have never seen you with anyone! I haven’t even cared to, all I’ve taken notice of you is…simple. You look ill, Malfoy.” Tears formed in her eyes again, and dammit! She hated being this sensitive over the matter!
Draco’s teeth clenched together. The muscles worked, and his throat clicked while his eyes grew colder with the death glare he sent her way. “Since when do you care who I fancy? Or, if I smelt anything in my Amortentia? Why does that concern you? I don’t believe it does!” He stopped her right there as she looked like she was about to interrupt him. “No, it’s my turn to speak now, Granger. You had your bloody turn, I let you have the floor to speak.” He started. “You and Potter, and the rest of the bloody school act as if I, myself, don’t have any feelings. I have feelings! I just don’t show them like you do. It’s a sign of weakness, and I don’t do weakness. I don’t fancy people because it gets you nowhere besides being a distraction, and I /don’t/ need any distractions!”
Hermione’s eyes fell to their feet as he spoke.
“You’re right. I don’t know how it is to watch someone you fancy kiss someone because the person I fancy never kissed someone! The only thing they’d ever done was dance with someone else, even then—it didn’t mean anything, because I thought it was just hormones at the time. I assure you know how those can be.”
She lifted her chocolate-colored eyes to only meet his. Her breath caught in her throat, as if the look he had knocked it right out of her.
“Weaselby chose the wrong girl to kiss after the match he’d won. He chose the wrong person to give his attention too. He chose wrong. You deserve better.”
And that was the last straw that she needed. Hermione fell to her knees sobbing, her hands scraped at the ground below her where snow was. She didn’t understand the random outburst of emotion, and the odd display before it all but it was there. Ron had chosen the wrong girl, and that it should’ve been her, she should’ve been the winning girl, she was supposed to be his trophy and here she was, before Draco Malfoy, crying. There were pointed black shoes in front of her, she blinked through her blurry vision as the tears stained little droplets in the snow. Now, Draco was crouched before her and when she lifted her head, all she could do was allow herself to fall into his arms, and sob into his chest. Hoping, praying that he wouldn’t hex her for the way her tears would stain his expensive suit, and dirty it up.
“—I just don’t understand—“
“—After all I’ve given, all I’ve done—“
“—doesn’t matter anymore—“
All of her sentences didn’t make any sense through the sobs, sobs that soon turned into hyperventilation. She went off and off, and off on the matter.
Draco’s fingers came to her chin, slowly lifted her head up and as her eyes opened they met Grey. His eyes were so easy to get lost in. No matter how cold he’d been in the past, how cold his facade seems. They looked so full of life when he looked at her, and it was her, who he fancied—she turned, and batted an eye at that matter as well, because… how could she have been with someone who bullied her? Someone who ruined her childhood.
Hermione brought a hand up to wipe her face up, erasing the tears from below her eyes, off her cheek and wiped her nose. She was shaking from how cold it was. His hand came to the side of her cheek, and he seemed to look into her eyes longingly. Contemplating.
“It’s you, Granger—“ He whispered. “—It’s you who I smelled in my Amortentia—“ When she tried to look away, non-believing what he was saying. Not believing that anyone would fancy her. He forced her to look at him, his expression hardened with a shake of his head and closed it off. “—It’s you, who I fancy—” He admitted. She tried to force her face away, she still couldn’t. Not falling for it, it’s all a joke. “—You are what I would want after a match I’ve won—“ and he continued, not letting her pull away. “—It’s hard to believe me, I know. All I’ve been was mean to you… and, and I can explain everything, if you’d give me the chance too. Ron doesn’t deserve you, and not even I deserve you, but yet… here I am.” He huffed.
She fell forward. Completely falling into him. Letting herself sink into his warmth as his arms wrapped protectively around her. Not letting her go.
“I’m here. You are not alone. You don’t have to be alone.” He whispered.
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