three little words ; 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞

7. Fighting

Draco's POV

He couldn't let her just get away.

Not like that. He couldn't bear to see the look on her face everytime she passed him in the corridors. She was trying to keep a brave face, but it faltered everytime she made eye contact with him. She was crumbling, and it was all Draco's fault.

He felt terrible. He knew he'd have to make it up to her. But how?

It was lunch when Draco thought up a plan to get her back. He would run into her heading back to her common room, and he'd pull her aside there. He'd spill out his mind--well, only a part--and she would have to forgive him. Right?

Draco's head hurt. He wasn't good at apologizing, not really doing it.

When lunch was finally over, Draco still hadn't eaten a bite. He wasn't hungry, though, nor was he worried about eating. He was worried about her. How was she doing? Did she miss him? Did she still want him?

He was about to find out.

Draco paced around the corridor, and went to stand by the stairwell leading up to Gryffindor common room. Several Gryffindors gave him dirty looks, but he didn't return them; he wasn't in the mood to pick on people. Not today.

While he was standing there, he realized that that was another thing Hermione had changed about him. He now didn't have the sudden urge to bully first years, or anyone for that matter. He knew that he needed her, no matter what happened. She was the good in his life, among all the bad.

He was shaken out of his thoughts when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hermione, won't you? I mean, yeah, we did kind of fight back in the days, but that was when we were little! Come on, don't let a bloke down. Go with me, Hermione?"

It was Ron Weasley, as slimy as his rat.

Anger started to fill Draco's chest, but he heard the words come out of Hermione's mouth, and he relaxed.

"No, Ron, I can't. I'm not ready. I mean, I'll worry about that when I get older, and have a job. Maybe you should start thinking about that too?"

He heard the swish of her cloaks as she walked on, and now he could see her, the same blank look on her face, deep in thought. He looked slightly past her and saw Weasley dragging his feet the other way. He smirked.

When she reached him, he stuck out his hand and grabbed her wrist. "Hermione!" he hissed.

Her look of surprise shook him. When she pulled her arm away fiercely, she knit her eyebrows in anger and shot back, "No! This is not happening again! I can't get hurt like that! Not ever! Not by you!"

She said the last word with such force that he stumbled back, but pressed on. "Please, you don't understand, it was Crabbe, I--I had to make him believe--"

"Believe what? That you weren't spending the night with a muggleborn? I should have known. Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy. Nothing changes. I don't get it. What the hell happened? One second you were kissing me, making me feel like I was the most important girl in your life, next I see you buttering up to Crabbe to rekindle that friendship that you never had! Yes," She breathed, "I know he hasn't been talking to you. For weeks now, I've only been able to dream about you! And if you were listening in to my conversation with Ronald just seconds ago, you would understand that I'm not interested in him!" Tears started to leak out of her big brown eyes. She pressed her hands against his chest and leaned in. "I shouldn't, but I want you."

The fire in her eyes faded. Draco was now pressed up against the wall, unable to move. It was hard for him to speak. "Really?" he squeaked.

"Yes," she replied, and pulled herself away. Her guarded face was back, and he knew that she was afraid to get hurt again. She started to walk back to the stairs, and recompose herself, but Draco spoke.

"I was stupid," he said quietly.

"What?" she looked back at him.

"I was stupid," he repeated louder. "and I shouldn't have gone searching for a friend when I already had you. More than a friend. I don't know what we are, or if there is a 'we' after all this, but I'm willing to find out. I know that I'm a Malfoy, and I can't change that. But you changed me. After all that I've done, you were there to comfort me. All my life, I've never had anyone to understand exactly what I'm going through. I kept running, trying to find that person, thinking it would be Crabbe, or Goyle, but really, it was you. I feel terrible. What can I do? You'll hate me, even more than you did before. I get it if you leave, if you walk away and forget about everything, but you needed to know. I can't have all this welling up inside of me. It'll explode, and it won't be good. You brought me home. You did it, Hermione. You brought me back."

Hermione's tears still fell down her face, but she wasn't crying anymore. She was smiling through her tears, of all things she could have done at that moment. She could've hit him, yelled at him some more for being an emotionless git, punched him even, but she didn't. Instead, she walked up to him again, meeting his eyes. He pressed himself against the wall again, but she took his hand, lacing her fingers through his, and pulled him away.

"That's good to know," she said, barely audible.

"Awfully sentimental, aren't I?" Draco smirked playfully, his eyes glittering. She hadn't rejected him. But what was she doing?

Hermione giggled softly. "Yes." leaning closer to his ear, she whispered, "I'll see you tonight."

"Where?" Draco asked, confused.

"Same time, same place," she said vaguely, before turning around and walking up the stairs to the common room.