Draco's POV
Hermione had woken up with her head in Draco's lap. He tenderly brushed her hair off of her face and she smiled sleepily. "Morning," she yawned.
Draco whispered, "Morning, Hermione,"
She sat up and got to her feet. "I guess I have to go to class soon. See you at breakfast," she said, turning to leave the empty room, but not before Draco grabbed her book from its place on the shelf, left there from the night before.
Kissing him on his cheek, Hermione had left the room, again leaving Draco to his thoughts. He ran his fingers through his curly blond hair, sighing. What have I done? He thought. She's never going to get off my back now that we've...kissed. How do I tell my friends? Hey, I spent the night with a muggleborn. What's gotten into me?
Sighing again, Draco grabbed his school robes and briskly strutted out the room, making sure he appeared calm and collected, though he was far from it. In fact, he'd thought he'd been going insane that morning.
It was now around midday, and Draco was just finishing Potions. When he walked out of the room, he ducked his head when he passed Hermione. Granger, he scolded himself. Nothing like that can ever happen again.
Throughout the day, Draco was close to walking up to Granger and talking to her, explaining that the events of the previous detention could never lead to anything, but he chickened out, knowing it would break her heart. But why should I care? She's never meant anything to me before, he pondered.
When lunch came around that day, Draco crept into the Great Hall early, so he could surround himself with friends so he wasn't tempted to look at her. But he failed anyway. Several times, he caught her looking at him, and she gave him a small smile, which he didn't return. The gears in his head were turning, trying to get him out of the mess at hand. He winced slightly at the hurt look in her eyes, but he shook his head to clear him of the thought. She didn't matter. No one did, because no one understood him.
The whole day was hard for Draco, staying away from Granger. It was a challenge; it seemed that every class had her in it. Finally, Divination had come, and Draco knew she wouldn't be there.
The class droned on, and he caught himself thinking about her. I can't do that, I can't think about her. She is nothing to me. She means nothing to me. Draco looked out the windows and the sun shone on the grounds below. It was a beautiful day, a day one should spend outside. So when Divination ended, he carried his books and walked outside, feeling the sunlight wash over his body. Even though winter would come soon, and snow would cover the grass, Draco still loved the sun on his arms, and he rolled his sleeves up.
"Hey, Malfoy!" He heard a voice calling his name. Turning around, he recognized the speaker at once. Crabbe.
"Why are you talking to me?" Draco spat, frustrated at his oldest friend for leaving him in the dark the whole time, and now acting as if it had never happened.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Crabbe's eyes glittered with mischief, showing Draco that he wanted him to get worked up, but he couldn't hold it in.
"Oh, I don't know," Draco sneered, "Maybe because you haven't talked to me since the war, and every time I try to make conversation with you, you turn your back like I'm nothing to you. I'm a Malfoy, Crabbe! I'm not a franky first year! For once you could at least acknowledge my presence."
Crabbe's face fell mockingly. "Oh, Malfoy. I had no idea. Why didn't you say something?"
That pushed Draco over the edge. "I did, Crabbe! So many times that I've started to lose count!" Then, softer, "Goyle's dead. Or did you even bother to notice? You're the only one I have left. That sounds horribly sentimental, but it's true. I have no one."
"What has Granger done to you?" Crabbe said incredulously. "I saw you go into the classroom together for detention, but when she came back out, she was all dreamy eyed and giddy like a kid. What happened, Malfoy?"
"Nothing," Draco shot back, a little too quickly. He saw the suspicion in Crabbe's eyes, so he continued. "Nothing happened. She just thinks that something happened. She's crazy, really. Still a filthy mudblood, of course. Spent the whole time reading. What a know-it-all."
He was about to go on, making sure Crabbe was convinced, when he saw Hermione--Granger--standing close enough to hear exactly what he just said. The look of confusion and despair in her eyes tore him apart. She ran away, her robes billowing behind her. Crabbe didn't see, but Draco pushed past him, following her. He raced through the corridors, trying to keep track of her, but a crowd of students separated him from her, leaving him to go back to the common room. He slumped his shoulders and dragged his feet the whole way there.
What have I done?
Draco tried to shake the feeling of guilt, but he couldn't. Hermione meant something to him. He couldn't ignore that.