The Grey In His Eyes! Dramoine Story (Draco & Hermione)

Chapter Twelve ~ Innocence

Authors Note:
Guess what guys you are in luck two stroies in one week/day whatever. I told you see.

Ily Guys <3 Happy reading

The things that Draco hated the most about Hermione Granger were things that most people would like. He hated her ability to tell when something was wrong, he hated her for somehow convincing him to open up to her, he hated her for caring... And mostly, he hated her for treating him like he was fragile.

He regretted their last conversation, for now she looked at him as though he was human. He didn't consider himself as human. He probably never would.

But now she did. She would shoot him affectionate glances or stroke his knee under the table at meetings reassuringly. She would ask him if he was okay and offer him tea. She would smile at him for no reason at all, and she would talk to him about her own problems.

He didn't particularly dislike the fact that she treated him this way. Hell, he loved it. But he disliked the fact that she now viewed him as one of them. He wished he was pure enough to be one of them, but he would never be. It was dangerous to view him as so. They were pure, good, honest, loyal, functional... and he was the opposite of all of the factors that made a Phoenix a Phoenix.

But no matter how many times he tried to convince her that he wasn't good, that she'd be better off if she didn't care about him, she wouldn't listen to him. She would always sigh and say the same damn thing; 'I wish you could see what I see in you'. But what she saw, she would never tell.

But even she didn't know how to explain it. His bruised, twisted and beautiful soul was appealing to her. And they just... meshed well together. There were some people that were meant to be enemies, some people that were meant to be friends, some people that were meant to be strangers, and some people that were meant to be lovers. She decided with no doubts that they fell into the last categories. They just fit.

She thought of Harry's mother and father, and how they loathed each other in school, smirking.

Maybe they weren't so unconventional, after all.

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He wasn't sure if the battle he had just returned from was reality or if it was a nightmare; somehow the two seemed to blur together then. All he knew was that it had scarred him greatly, and that he might never be the same again.

He also wasn't sure if Longbottom was dead or not. If he was, he envied his companion. Death was like a deep, relaxing sleep. There was no sleep where he was. Sometimes he even wondered whether if he was living or if he was in hell. But then again, if this was hell, he wouldn't have Granger.

The moment he walked in the kitchen, Granger covered his mouth in kisses. Maybe it was because he looked so battered up; after all, his face was dirty bruised and the cut on his forehead was bleeding. But maybe she just sensed he needed it. She had a knack for that.

She released him after she felt she had kissed him enough to heal his wounds and looked in his grey eyes, which looked more dead than she'd ever seen them. "Is it true... What Harry said?"

"That depends on what he said" he replied simply, leaning up against the kitchen counter.

"Neville" she managed to whisper, but tears welled up in her eyes.

Draco ground his teeth together the way he always did when he was angry, but Hermione noticed that his eyes were glazed over, too. He was both angry and upset; but usually the two went hand and hand when it came to him. "He's dead".

She felt a few tears trickle down her cheeks before she could find a reply. "Why is it that everyone always has to die?"

"Oh believe me, I ask myself the same thing" he drawled. "I only pray that I'm next".