"I've always hoped this day would come."
"My name is Valeriana Zabini." The woman took a shuddering breath.
"Your mother."
*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*
A secret kept from her all her life. A secret with the power to alter her life entire...
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☆.｡.:* Draco .｡.:*☆
Hermione trailed him like a puppy, blissfully unaware as to why she was so enthralled by his sudden appearance. She followed him into a large ballroom, where he stood at an exposed balcony, the night sky glittered with stars behind him. She thought he looked like a god- as much as she'd hate to admit it.
"Are you following me or something, Granger?" He glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes clouded with an unreadable expression. Hermione inclined her head in acknowledgment, oblivious about how to proceed.
"No," Hermione all but whispered, she dared take a step closer towards him, "Look, I'm sorry," she began, taking another step. His dark blouse alight against the brilliant moon, casting a shadow on his high cheekbones, enabling them to look as though they could cut through glass.
"Oh?" His voice unrelentingly calm, turning to face her and leaning against the balcony. Hermione lowered her head, fidgeting with her hands, unable to look him in the eye.
"About what I said, at that warehouse apartment," Hermione said, trying to keep her voice even.
He scanned her over with a look of indignance and something else she couldn't seem to place.
Hermione was aware that he hated her, absolutely loathed her. She could see it in his gaze, the way he glanced at her with such burning...hate. There was a gleam in his eye that told her how much he truly despises her. Hermione believed that he would always hate her- it had been planted inside him for as long as she could remember, and there would be no way to root out that hate...as much as she wanted to.
He strode over to her in such an excruciatingly graceful way. She lifted her head to meet his burning stare, in such short paces, he'd made it right in front of her. Hermione's eyes bulged in apprehension, a breath getting caught onto her throat.
"Tell me...exactly," He whispered, his minty scent wafting up to her nose. Intoxicating. "What you're sorry about."
Hermione didn't know if the burning pit in her stomach was from rage and his domineering stature over her, or from the close proximity. She knew that the reason he was being so close was to intimidate her. Hermione wouldn't back down from him, even when her skin was crawling with such burning abhorrence or desirousness- she couldn't decide. Her gut twisted, peering into his silver eyes, reminding her so much of the moon peering down at them. She didn't trust herself to speak at that very moment as she felt like her mouth would betray her.
"I..." It was worse to have tried.
Hermione saw the twisted pleasure he was getting out of her being so speechless, she felt entirely pathetic, so out of touch from the girl who'd once punched him in the face.
"Cat got your tongue?" He whispered, grinning broadly as he seized a front strand of her silken hair. It felt like her breath was being sucked away from her by a dementor. She felt her cheeks began to heat, she truly needed to snap out of it.
