Draco crumpled up, once again, another letter. He didn't how to tell her. It had taken him an entire summer to try and sort out his feelings. They had become friends over the summer, as both had come to Hogwarts everyday to help clean up and rebuild the castle. Once he came back to Hogwarts for school, he had realized he truly was in love with her. Then it took him another month to overcome his pride, arrogance, and prejudice. Two more weeks to grow a pair and tell her, and here he was, ready to do it through a letter.
I mean, seven years of bullying and a lifetime of hatred don't change with a few months. He was going to do it this way, or not at all.
He sighed, tapping his quill on the lengthy piece of parchment. Finally, he began to write. His letter was long, and enough to make a small chapter out of. It was enough to make any girl swoon when they read it. His letters, normally small and without imperfections, were large and swooping, little flaws in each cursive letter. It was written by a man without cares. Once he had finished, he read it over.
Granger,
I need to ask you a question. When you sleep, do you dream of me? When you're awake, do you think of me? I need to know; how do you feel? Because, when I sleep, I dream of you. And when I'm awake, that's all I do. I think about every detail you have.
Do you notice, when I get mad, I clench my jaw. Do you notice when I get sad, I tend to fall over my words I say to you.
Because I notice, when you get mad, you close your eyes. And I notice when you get sad, you let out sighs. I need to know; are those sighs ever over me?
Do you know how in love with you I am? Do you see how in love with you I am? Everything you do, it makes my heart stop. It just stops.
So tell me Granger, when you sleep, do you dream of me?
D.M.
Draco hoped to whatever was out there that she felt the same way. Or at least she was willing to give him a chance. He carefully deposited his poured-out heart into the envelope next to the letter. He had left his special, green, wax candle burning on the desk, so he carefully tilted it over to let the melted wax pour onto the tip of the back. He then took his stamp and sealed it, pulling it off to see the Malfoy crest in green keeping the letter closed.
His owl, Indie, was waiting on the window sill. She gave his hand an affectionate peck, taking the letter in his hands and listening for him to give her the recipients name.
"Take this to Hermione Granger," he whispered, stroking her dark feathers. "Wait for her to reply before you leave, and bring her reply back to me, alright?" Indie gave a small hoot and flew off into the dark Friday night.
Draco sat down, his head in his hands, and wondered if he had just done that.
~~~
The following morning, a platinum blond boy lay fast asleep in his bed, exhausted from his long night of tossing and turning.
Out of the blue, there was a rather annoying sound of talons on glass, and a pecking noise followed up after. Draco groaned, reaching up and hitting his alarm clock.
The pecking sound became annoyed, and tapped all the harder on his window. He sat up, looking around in a daze. His eyes focused on the owl in the window, a letter in her beak. He jumped up, hurriedly opening the window and snatching the letter from the owl, who gave an annoyed hoot.
He threw her a swift apologetic look before tearing open the letter.
Draco,
I've just woken up to your letter. As you know, I am not often left without words. Nor am I ever this flattered. I cannot believe this.
I think it's better to talk about this face to face. Meet me after breakfast in the courtyard. 10 o'clock on the dot. It's a Hogsmeade weekend, and it's Saturday, so almost everyone will be gone until this evening.
Hermione
Draco ran a hand through his hair with a wide grin. It was nine already, so he grabbed an outfit and threw it on, shrugging on multiple layers and a warming charm to protect against the chilly air. After all, students had no dress code on the weekends.
Dressed nicely in a black turtleneck tucked into his black slacks, a gold buckled belt, warm socks, his black boots, an autumn colored plaid shacket, and a silver chain around his neck, he glanced in the mirror with a smirk. Fixing his hair as he went, he hurried down to the Great Hall, doing smell checks on his cologne and breath (both smelled like heaven).
Man, this girl had done a number on him.
He entered the hall, nobody bothering to look at him. He sat down at the Slytherin table, carefully observing the Gryffindors for a sign of the curly haired brunette. He didn't see her.
All of a sudden, a flash brown hair and and the laughter of a girl caught his eye. Nobody could mistake Hermione Granger's thick curls. Not quite ringlets, and not quite waves, but bouncing curls that reached the bottom of her shoulder blades. She wore a fitted white cable knit jumper that hugged her curves, french tucked into a pair of beige slacks that fit her waist like a second skin, dark brown boots will ill-tied laces, and a golden necklace dangling around her neck. A blazer the same color of her slacks was draped over one arm.
She had a very reserved look on her face, whereas her best friend next to her was laughing over something he couldn't hear. Her friend, Ginny, was dressed in much more fashionable clothes that hugged her skin. He already knew this, but Hermione was definitely the mother and modest one of the group. He liked it, though. He liked that she kept her body away from those who weren't close to her. And how she preferred to prove her worth through intelligent banter and battles of wits. He never shamed other girls, though. He found it nice, too, when girls showed off their body. He would admire their confidence and fashion for doing so.
Hermione suddenly glanced at him, and she gave him a small wave and smile.
He suppressed a broad grin and opted for a small smile and a wink. She rolled her eyes, but he didn't miss the secret smile she hid.
Almost an hour later, the crowd had already begun to flow from the Hall, moving like a heard out of the front doors and onto the path to Hogsmeade. The prefects lead the way, and the last of the children trickled from the doors. The Great Hall was empty, and only two lone students were walking the halls.
Draco had gone first, racing out of the doors at nine forty-five. He had arrived at the secluded Hogwarts courtyard early, so he opted to have a seat on a stone bench in front of the large statue. He couldn't stop his mind from racing. His thoughts weren't letting up.
He glanced up at the overcast sky, and back around at all the colorful October leaves. They popped with bright oranges, yellows, and reds. They improved his mood greatly, so he sighed with content. What would come would come.
He started to glance at his watch, when a shuffling of boots interrupted his actions. He whipped his head up, almost getting whiplash, and caught sight of her.
Hermione shuffled towards him awkwardly, taking a seat beside him silently. A few quiet minutes of this silences progressed, neither daring to look at the other. Hermione had read that when you talk to somebody about something important, it's easier if you don't look at them. Less confrontational. Draco, being the secret bookworm he is, had read the same thing. It was still quiet when one of them broke the silence.
"I read your letter quite a few times," said Hermione with a soft voice. They still kept their eyes ahead. "I feel the same."
"Really?" Draco asked in awe, finally glancing at her.
She slowly turned to look at him. "Yeah."
They held their eye contact for a few fleeting moments. All of a sudden, his cold lips were on hers. Not harshly, though, but barely there. This was her choice.
And she chose to kiss back.
