Dramione One Shots

Penesieve

Draco sighed unhappily sitting in the Hogwarts library. He kept himself tucked away in a dark corner with only his cronies Crabbe and Goyle. Their fathers had been Draco's father's cronies so it only seem fit to do the same.

"Crabbe," Draco demanded, "Who is that girl?"

Draco pointed to across the library where a little girl, probably his age, sat in a window. She had her knees tucked under her with a book in her lap. Her hair was huge and bushy, like a poodles. Draco wanted to pet it but knew that doing such an act would be weird.

"I dunno," Crabbe snickered.

"What about you, Goyle?" Draco questioned.

Goyle grunted in response, an obvious no. Draco clenched his fists, frustrated. He wanted to know who she was. The girl was always getting questions right and getting points for Gryffindor. Already being a Gryffindor, Draco knew that his father would never allow him to ask for her hand in marriage (not that he was already naming their kids or anything). He only hoped that she was from a pureblood family, maybe a very respected one, and his father would forget about her house.

"Then find me someone who does!" Draco exclaimed.

He gritted his teeth in anger. Everyone was so useless.

~~~~

"No one asked you, you filthy little mudblood," Draco sneered, staring down at the girl.

He'd finally learned who she was a little while before the end of first year. One of his friends with an actual intelligence, Blaise Zabini, had informed him. Her name was Hermione Granger, a pathetic name. And even worse; she was a muggleborn.

Draco regretted saying it the moment the word left his lips. It was clear she didn't know what a muggleborn was. Her confused expression, eyebrows scrunched and eyes misted over while she searched her mind for an answer, bloated across her face before turning into anger and . . . hurt.

Her eyes teared up, but Hermione blinked them away. She looked at a loss for words.

Draco felt a pit of guilt form in jail stomach, churning in an unfriendly way. His eyes widened for a millisecond before hardening over. As much as he didn't want to hurt Hermione, Draco also didn't want to upset his father. Not only would the infamous Lucius Malfoy be upset for Draco pawning after a Gryffindor mudblood, he'd be furious if Draco was kicked off the quidditch team - especially since he had spent a fortune on brooms.

"You'll pay for that," the redhead, whatever his name was, said, stepping forward with his taped up wand out.

The look Hermione gave him for standing up for her was enough to make Draco's heartbreak. He knew he would never be able to win her heart, not with the redhead in the way.

~~~~~

Draco felt the punch before it hit his face. There was nothing to stop it, nowhere to jump. Hermione's fist came flying at his face, colliding directly with his nose. He gasped and clutched his poor, injured face. Never in a million years would Draco have thought that she would actually punch him.

Theodore, oh thank Theo, came rushing to Draco's aid. He stood Draco up and rushed him up the hill along with Crabbe. As soon as they made it inside, Draco easily fixed his nose with a spell.

"Crabbe. Go."

Crabbe grunted, a talent he had picked up from Goyle, and trudged away. As soon as the baffoon was gone, Draco sighed and slid his back down the wall until he was sitting on the ground. He lowered his head between his hands and let out a strangled scream.