The Stars Aligned

Chapter 1

May 2, 1998

Don't go.

Stay.

Stay with me. Please.

Because if you left, the world would crumble, and I would shatter in your wake.

—
September 9, 1995

"What's better in your opinion, sausage or bacon?"

Ron and his damn food.

"Depends. Are we talking about on their own, or coupled with eggs and toast?" Harry replied, and I shook my head at the fact that he was bothering to even indulge in this conversation.

Ron took a moment to consider, as if they weren't talking about breakfast foods. He shoveled a heaping spoonful of pasta into his mouth and said, "Coupled with eggs and toast. I mean, who eats sausage or bacon on their own? Bloody ridiculous..."

Ron's incessant babbling churned with the simulated thunderstorm above us and faded to a distant murmur in my ears, my attention fixed across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table. Why did I always find myself entranced with them? Particularly one group?

That one group of students in my year, students who held themselves above everyone else and taunted me for being a Muggleborn. Blaise Zabini sat at the edge of the bench with his back toward me, his head inclined away from Theo Nott, who was whispering something in his ear. Blaise barked out a loud laugh that echoed throughout the Great Hall. Pansy Parkinson was leaning forward towards Theo, her elegant bob framing her face, her elbows on the table and her cheeks braced on her hands. A sensuous half smile seemed to rest permanently on her full pink lips. And to her left sat Draco Malfoy himself.

His left elbow was perched casually on his lifted knee, and his right hand continuously reached down to the table and then popped ripe green grapes into his mouth. My eyes lingered there, on his lips, and I swallowed, heat creeping up my cheeks. He didn't even chew them. His robes were unbuttoned and sloppy, revealing a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck. His platinum blond hair was carefully fixed and swept to the side, each hair placed exactly where he wanted it. His grey eyes were fixated on Pansy and Theo, occasional laughs shaking his broad shoulders. My cheeks were blazing now, my heart pounding in my ears.

He's a bully, I remind myself. An arrogant, self absorbed arsehole. That's the collective opinion of him, isn't it? So it should be mine too.

But when I found myself looking at him and his friends, he seemed... normal. Happy. And I wondered if there was another Draco, maybe even the true Draco, hidden beneath the surface.

As if he could feel my eyes on him, his gaze suddenly snapped to me, the storm clouds rumbling overhead. My breath caught in my throat. He smirked, as if saying, "Like what you see, Granger?"

Granger. Even though he hadn't really said anything just now, it was always Granger when he spoke to me. Well, argued with me is more like it. Always my last name. Before that, it was Mudblood. But never Hermione.

I knew he couldn't hear my thoughts, but I held his gaze steadily and replied in my head, "Why the last name? Such a formality. Call me Hermione, prick."

Hermione.

My lungs stopped working. How had he heard me?

Hermione.

There it was again. How—

"Hermione!"

I jolted in my seat. I blinked rapidly and found Ron looking at me expectantly.

"Um— sorry— what?"

"I said, don't you think bacon is a bit overrated? I mean, sausages hold way more flavor," Ron repeated, his brow slightly furrowed.

"Oh— sure, Ron, yes," I answered, my mind still spinning. Ron had been saying my name. Ron, not Draco.

"Where'd you go? You were zoned out for a second," Harry asked, scanning me up and down as if I was in danger. Always so worried about everyone.

"Oh. Yes, I'm fine, Harry. Just thinking about my schoolwork," I chuckled half-heartedly.

"You always are. Speaking of, could you help me with my Transfiguration essay tonight, Hermione?" Ron asked, plastering on a big smile. Wow, this doofus.

I snorted. "The essay we have had three weeks to finish?"

He shrugged. "What can I say? I guess I'm just too popular."

"Popular with the house elves, you mean, since you spend your free time in the kitchen with them," Harry quipped, grinning. Ron nodded vigorously and gobbled down another bite of pasta.

"Fine, Ronald. Honestly, both of you would have flunked out by now if not for me." As I stood, neither of them argued. "I'm heading to Potions early, I need to speak with Professor Snape about the upcoming exam."

They waved goodbye without looking at me, already engrossed in another intellectually degrading conversation. I heard something about pimples as I walked away, cringing as I moved to leave the Great Hall. I didn't dare to look at the Slytherin table.

I turned the left corner and was halfway up the steps when I heard a deep and condescending voice say, "Leaving so soon?"

I halted. Of course it had to be him, him with that voice.

I spun around swiftly and found myself looking at Draco. He was leaning against the base of the stairwell, turning a grape between his slender fingers.

"I am. And what's it to you, Malfoy?" I retorted, pleased with the disgust in my voice.

He threw the green grape in the air and caught it with the other hand using only one finger, balancing it on his ring finger. Damn him and his smooth movements. "I just thought you'd wanna take another look at me before you left. Clearly, you like what you see, Granger."

Show me the real you.

I scoffed. "Please. I was staring at that big arse zit on your forehead." He scowled.

I turned back around and he said, "Nothing compared to the size of your legendary pimples, Granger." My cheeks reddened, my mind flooded with my hideous acne in third year, which was out of control for a week before I learned the concealer charm. What was it with pimples today?

Before I could stop myself, I turned around and snapped, "Why the last name, Malfoy? Such a formality. Call me Hermione, prick."

His eyes darkened.

That's it. Show me. I want to see who you are.

He stood straight and took a step up. Then another. Then another. All the while, his eyes were fixed on mine, and he tossed the grape in the air over and over. Step. Toss. Step. Toss. Until finally, he was standing face to face with me, on the step below.

This way, we were the same height, and instead of his usual towering over me, our eyes were perfectly matched. His lips pulled back slowly as he said softly, "And what's it to you, Granger? I'm just a prick, after all."

I glared at him and hissed, "Go to hell."

Amusement gleamed in his stormy eyes. His mouth made an O, and his firm fingers slid the grape into his mouth, making a small popping noise. I couldn't help but watch the bulk move down his throat, then vanish. He smirked. "Gladly."

Before anything else could happen, I spun on my heel and continued up the stairs. My chest rose and fell quickly. I didn't look back. I didn't have to. I knew he was still there, watching me go. I felt his eyes on me. Those quicksilver eyes.

I turned the corner and shuddered. Who the hell swallows their grapes whole?