I Learned Your Pulse

"She saved my life by doing it."

"Hermione... what was... that?"

He could tell she had no answer. His lips still tingled with the feeling of her on them, and his arms ached to hold her once more. She was biting her lip fiercely and looking down at her feet, one of which she swivelled uncertainly. "You needed something happy, and so I... kissed you. Oh, Merlin, I kissed you!"

And then she bolted.

He called after her, but knew she didn't hear; and as hard as he tried to get his feet moving, they wouldn't budge. He could do nothing but stand in shock.

Didn't she have a boyfriend?

But, then again, he'd probably have died had she not. He needed a happy memory. He had to have had a happy memory to have produced a Patronus, but he hadn't had one - the happiest he could remember being apparently wasn't strong enough. That surprised him. The happiest memory he had was ecstatically tinted with discovery and new found capabilities.

It was those two months at his parents' house that he loathed. Not really Hogwarts, though he called it pathetic numerous times. Because, while the school could not help him, the person waiting for him could. the very person waiting there, already in the booth.

"Pansy," he said, the greeting almost lost in the gratitude in his voice.

"Draco." She was clearly bemused by how relieved he sounded at seeing her. She asked her custom question next. "Did you bring me anything?"

He grinned. "Of course," he replied, as was the tradition. He entered the compartment and closed the door behind him, blocking out most useless jabbering from other students. Sitting down opposite her, he rummaged in his bag for the silver-and-green wrapped present. His fingers touched the smooth, velvety fabric feeling of the wrapping paper, and he brought it out, letting it glint in the artificial light for a moment before handing it to her.

"It's small," she noted, and indeed it was - it was no bigger than the palm of his hand. But, knowing what was inside, his smile wouldn't falter while she criticized it with her eyes.

"Well, open it," he said at last, unable to retain himself, the words flying out of their own accord,

She looked up to make a snarky retort, but her eyes, a deep chocolate brown, met his, and, seeing how eager he was for her to open it, she smiled back, forgetting what she was about to say. Her fingers tucked themselves under a flap and daintily pulled it off, leaving a whole side opened. Her thin, slender fingers reached into the packaging and pulled out a black box, the edges of which were intricately designed with silver vines that sparkled like his eyes when she saw the box and her eyes widened.

He realized, in that one moment where there eyes met over the ring box, that he truly loved her. Not loved her like the friend he always had, as strictly a friend, nothing more than a comforting shoulder; he wanted her shoulder to be always next to his as the arms attached to them led to intertwined hands, each with little rings glistening on them as they said their vows. He really, truly loved her; he had told his parents he'd marry her because it was traditional and proper to marry another Slytherin pureblood; but he really, truly loved her, with all his heart.

He'd never dream of telling her that, of course. She'd get all snarky on him. But her eyes were begging him to take the box and open it. He slid off the bench and onto one knee, gently taking the box from between her fingers and opening it slowly, dramatically, letting her eyes pop open in wonder at the ring he couldn't see then, but knew what it looked like.

"Pansy Priscillinette Parkinson. Will you marry me?"

He had thought she would have gotten snarky had he said the words he'd been dying to say, but her eyes met his once more, and she whispered, "You missed those little three words in that request."