wrong ||| dramione

Year Four || Different

***

As he went out of the classroom that day, he walked carefully behind not to make eye-contact with anyone. On his way out, he saw Potter and Weasley head off in one direction - and Granger in another.

Without thinking, he followed her, trying not to come too close.

He had no idea what he was going to do. He didn't even know what would happen if she could actually talk to him without remembering all that he'd done to make her miserable.

Would she really be able to look past his wrongs? He doubted it. And yet as he walked after her in the shadows, he imagined a scenario in which she would actually consider- consider what exactly?

- Are you following me? - her voice cut through his thoughts and he stopped, his heart hammering wildly in his ears.

He had not thought this through.

- Draco? -there was apprehension in her voice. but she looked puzzled, more than anything.

Now. Now was the chance. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't.

- Draco are you all right?

Something brought him to his senses. Of course he was all right. How stupid of her. Filthy, filthy little Mudblood. To think he could have feelings for her, he, who was practically of royal blood, Draco Malfoy, heir of the Malfoy family, a Slytherin, whose father was a friend of the Prime Minister himself-

- Of course I'm all right you idiot. And I'm going to the Great Hall if you must know. Why would I be following you? 

He spat out the last word, his voice was marked by his usual insulting tone and as he stormed by her, his white hair flying in the wind, as she looked perplexedly after him. In a few steps he had turned the corner and was gone.

Hermione stood there for quite a while, thinking of what she had heard and seen. Then she finally went on, clutching her books to her chest.

She didn't want to tell Harry and Ron, but something was definitely wrong with Draco. He looked strange - as if something was worrying him. 

And whether she liked him or not, Mad-Eye's behaviour towards him had been inexcusable. She sighed exasperatedly at herself, wondering how it was that Malfoy, of all people, had managed to make her feel sorry for him.

***

A couple of stories beneath her, Draco was leaning against the cold stone wall of the dungeons, where the Slytherin dormitories were. He felt sick with himself - sick for having talked to her in that way, sick of not knowing what it was he wanted... One second he wanted to dash his fists against the wall and the other, he wanted Granger to laugh at his jokes instead of laughing at his misfortunes... for her to speak to him and not to Weasley and Potter.

And certainly not to Krum.

What would they talk about? What could he, Draco, possibly talk about with a girl? He didn't know how to make compliments or how to be charming. All he knew was how to defend himself and make fun of others.

No, he was much better off alone. Talking to people requires courage and he wasn't feeling very brave. 

He and Hermione Granger could have nothing in common. His gang of friends would never accept her - and Potter and Weasley would watch him like a hawk. Not to mention that if Pansy found out, she would tell on him and the tidings would come to his father... And heaven knows what punishment that'll bring for both of them. He wouldn't mind getting beaten or locked up - he'd had enough violence inflicted on him as a child and wasn't scared of things like that - but to imagine that his father could take him out of Hogwarts... No. No way. Never. Anything but that.

But even as he thought these things, a small, almost childish voice picked up inside his head, that pleaded - what difference should all of this make? If he liked her, really liked her, wouldn't he find a way?

But what if she rejected him?

Nonsense. No one could reject Draco Malfoy.

That was the voice of a younger and more confident him speaking. But as Draco bit his lip and finally decided it was better to attend his next class than to skip it, he knew it was more than possible. It was bound to happen. 

And so he carried on with his life, daydreaming miserably and even paying more attention to his studies to distract himself from the pain and anguish within. 

And because of this pain and anguish, his father's image seemed to fade and become replaced by a Muggle-born brown-haired girl who, as he now realised, had always meant to him more than he'd ever allowed himself to believe. 

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