By darthelwig
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Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter’s universe. Thus, none of these wonderful characters belong to me. I am not making any money off of this.
This is a Draco/Hermione fic. If you don’t like them together, go read something else. Rated PG-13 for mild language.
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Miss Hermione Granger was haunting his thoughts once again.
He hated it. Oh, how he hated it. How could a filthy mud-blood girl get under his skin like this? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Why did he always find himself showing off in front of her? What kind of sickness was it that made him yearn to see her smile at him like she smiled at her friends?
He ached to rip the memory of her out of his mind, to forget about ever meeting her. What good could come of this? None, that’s what. A Malfoy did not pine for anyone, much less someone as impure as she was. His father would be beside himself were he ever to discover his son’s secret desire to possess this particular girl.
And what was so attractive about her anyway? Her hair was too bushy, she was bossy as hell, and she was hopeless when it came to her “causes”. He snorted with mirth as he remembered SPEW. What a waste of time! House elves didn’t need any rights. They wouldn’t even know what to do with them if they had them!
But something about her wouldn’t let him rest. Without fail, his thoughts would always drift back to her, lingering on the memories of her eyes sparkling with ire. The most beautiful he’d ever seen her was right before she punched him. Even the way she dressed up at the Yule Ball couldn’t compare with the fire he’s seen blazing in her eyes at that moment.
He shook his head, irritated with himself. The girl was a nuisance, as were her friends. He should just forget about her.
Easier said then done, though.
She was always there, and the more he tried to not think about her, the more she intruded in his head. Maybe he should just obliviate himself, forgetting everything. Yet even as he thought it, he knew he could never do that. He liked her too much, damn it. He wanted her. He wanted that fire she possessed. He wanted to feel the heat of her passion, to see if he would be burned.
Like a moth to the flame. That’s what he was, only not so innocent.
He looked at his reflection the mirror, examining the young man he saw before him. What did she see? Was this the face of her dreams or her nightmares? Did his image haunt her as she did to him? Could she ever look beyond his veneer of sneering bigotry to see the true dragon in his heart? Would she ever know the real Draco? Would she ever want to?
He knew he had been terrible to her. He knew that things would never change. If he saw her on the street, he would still call her mud-blood. He would tease and insult her until she struck out at him again. The habits of a lifetime could not be dropped so easily. But did he really feel that way anymore? What did it matter anyway? Was it worth being alone and hated to be pure-blood? Was it worth losing any chance he might possibly ever have with her?
He gave himself a firm mental slap. He did not want to “be with” Hermione Granger, no matter what his hormones were telling him. And that’s what this was, pure hormones. They were something that could be controlled, and he would learn to do so. He would rid himself of this need, somehow.
That familiar smirk stretched his lips and he started to feel more himself. He would be rid of her one day. Until then, it would be a test of his willpower, and a Malfoy always got what he wanted.
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