In Love & Hatred - Dramione

Chapter 25- Return of the Last Marauder

Draco

Draco could feel the majority of the school's eyes bore into Hermione as they danced and embraced. He took a bit of guilty pleasure in the power it made him feel. Perhaps once or twice he caught Weasley gaping at the two of them. There was no certain guarantee that he was aware that it was Hermione that Draco kissed and held close.

He would find out one way or another, right?

The heels of Hermione's shoes ticked the stone floor out of the hall. Draco had contemplated unmasking her and showcasing his affection. Her influence left him feeling a presence nothing short of dominance and pure sovereignty. All of the student's prying eyes proved that she was in fact a golden girl, his golden girl. Being perfectly frank, speaking of the Weasel King, he had spotted the same girl swarming over him as a couple years ago some weeks after a certain Quidditch match.

Annoying twits, the both of them. He seems in much more disgust than before. There's slim chance he is satisfied with their current relationship. If you call that a relationship anyway.. This could be problematic.

Draco was well aware of the longing looks Weasley gave to Hermione. Just the memory of his wanting expressions rocked him to his core. He would do anything to solidify his bond with Hermione and deeply wished for Weasley to see it. Nothing about her allowed him to believe she would compromise how he told her he loved her. His conscious reminded him to never betray her trust.

Hermione's slender fingers tightened around his hand as they rounded the corner into a gallery lined with frostbitten floor to ceiling windows. Small flurries shimmered just outside the glass acting as natural glitters catching the white moonlight. Draco spun and pulled her in close as they stood in the moon's light beams.

"You wear that dress so well," he expressed through his charmed smile.

"I must admit," she blushed, "you impressed me. You have wonderful taste in clothing."

"My love, the dress is no match for how beautiful you are. You could wear the mucus of a flobberworm and still look stunning."

Hermione giggled. Few moments of loving silence passed between them before she broke the air.

"Do you think anyone recognized us?"

"Hmm," he pondered, "I don't think many people had any idea who we were. Then again, there were a few that I spotted offering knowing looks."

Her expression filled with thoughtful concern. Draco traced her scarlet lip as he pressed into her.

"Draco.. I think Ron may suspect something.."

He paused and waited for her follow-up. There was some uncertainty that lingered in the air around her delicate head.

She's not ashamed of me.. is she?

The very idea of Draco worried that Hermione Granger may be ashamed of him seemed so wild. Pureblood royalty was something Lucius Malfoy wore proudly and would rather dress in satin knickers than ever admit his son associated, no, was in love with someone other than that. Draco hated the idea of his father and his ideological standards. He hoped against hope that Hermione wouldn't subject him responsible of his ill-mannered upbringing.

"Hermione, are you worried he will find out about us?"

"Draco, no, of course not. Well, a little."

His heart slid low against his rib cage.

"I-I-I mean in no way am I ashamed of you. I'm only worried that he would find out in the wrong context. I want him to know. In fact, I'm dying to tell him, but, I don't know how to tell him without breaking his heart. Draco, I love you. There's nothing that is going to change that."