𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐋, a dramione short story

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐡.

IT WAS UNDENIABLE that Hermione had developed some sort of feeling for Draco. Although it was meek and minuscule and bashful, it was there.

"Are you doing anything today?" Hermione asked Draco, studying his bright eyes.

He shook his head. "Nothing at all. Do you wanna do something?" The question rolled off of his tongue naturally, but inside he was apprehensive. Would she misinterpret what he meant? What did he mean, anyways?

This excited Hermione. It meant provided time to determine how she felt about him. And time to figure out if it was pure amity that had sparked their friendship, or if there was any underlying interest there as well. "Sure, what all is there to do?"

"We could go to the beach," Draco suggested with a shrug.

Perplexed, Hermione furrowed her brow. "The beach? During the winter? Why would we ever go to the beach now?"

"It's quiet and serene. Almost as though it came out of a novel. I promise you, it's very pretty. C'mon," Draco explained in the most persuasive tone he could muster.

Hermione shrugged. "Okay. I don't see why we shouldn't go."

Grinning, Draco slipped on his coat and handed Hermione hers, which was idle on the rack. The brush of his hand against hers as he gave her the jacket was swift, but still managed to ignite the fireworks once more. The moment replayed in her mind, the sensation of his fingers grazing softly over her hand becoming too much of an obsession. Hermione had to shake her head to stop.

"After you," Draco said as he opened the front door.

She smiled. "Thank you."

The pair walked alongside one another, Draco intentionally choosing the longer route. Birds chirped over the humble city's bustling crowds, people of all sizes and shades shuffling about to prepare for their holiday festivities.

"Do you think that there's a reason some people are born muggles and others are born as wizards?" Hermione asked, hoping to start a conversation.

"Genetics," Draco answered immediately. Not necessarily because it was his belief, but because it had been drilled into his head since he was young. Real wizards have wizard families, so he was told.

"But my parents are both muggles, and from what I know they have no magical lineage," Hermione protested, arousing guilt in Draco. He forgot to think before he spoke.

"I take back what I said. Maybe all of the people who are born magical are intended to leave an impact on the wizarding world."

Hermione shook her head. "It couldn't be. Only a fraction of wizards actually make names for themselves and do something significant."

"I know that, but maybe every one has the potential to. And only some of them end up doing so, because of chance and all that stuff," Draco explained. It was an odd situation to try making sense of. "We're here," he added as he motioned to the water.

They took a pause to admire the crash of the waves upon the dusty sand. Repetitive, constant, and mesmerizing.

"I suppose we'll never find out why some of us are who we are. The beach reminds me of my father," Hermione said, not breaking her stare.

"Why is that?"

"We used to go to the beach over summer break, and that's when he taught me to swim. My mum and I would always bury him in the sand," Hermione said with a giggle. "I miss them a lot."

"Maybe one day we can go find them," Draco said, understanding her longing for her family. As wicked as his father was, Draco still missed him.

"We?" Hermione asked, reaching down to pick up a pinch of sand. She rubbed it between her fingers, letting it fall to the ground, grain by grain.

"Why not? I want to get away from here anyways," Draco admitted. "It would be fun."

Going to Australia to find her parents had never really crossed Hermione's mind. She needed them to be safe during the war, but it was over now, and maybe it would be better if she still had them. "I suppose. Maybe, eventually."

Draco watched the brunette closely. She had a graceful, knowledgeable way of doing things, from her observant manner of viewing the beach to the way she always seemed to be lost in thought. She's beautiful, something in his mind said. He shoved it back, hoping she wouldn't notice his discomfort. It wasn't her that caused it, anyways. It was the absurdity of himself that inspired such untimely behavior. Often it is a person who causes their thoughts and feelings to overwhelm them, when they focus solely upon said ideal rather than letting their surroundings consume them. It is as though all of humanity is floating in a pool, either drowning themselves or being drowned by the waves.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

a/n: i feel like this chapter was rly confusing lol.
also, do you guys think this story is even any good? it has way less average reads per chapter than all the other stories on this account and i was wondering if it's boring or not well-written or something.