A Little Piece of Sincerity
By: Provocative Envy
OOO
Danish Pastry 28: Usually I can’t answer questions about whether or not something is going to happen in one of my stories. But I can say with a great deal of certainty that there is no possible way to make this a romance if I included their friends’ reactions to their relationship. It would be a challenge, I suppose, but one that doesn’t particularly interest me. The best part of any Draco/Hermione love story is in how they manage to overcome their utter hatred and transform it into something far better. It would be anticlimactic to have them confess their undying love and then have to deal with the ever-present scorn of their classmates. Oddly for me, though, I have the final scene of this story planned out perfectly. I think the next chapter will be the last, but if anything else I’ve written before this is an indication, it’s entirely probable that this could drag on for another twenty chapters. Thanks for your almost amusingly long reviews, however; they’re quite a bit of fun to read. Makes me feel like a real writer rather than an aspiring novelist whose creative writing professors would faint if they knew she was spending her summer writing fanfiction.
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Draco was miserable to the point of agony as he trudged down the stairs that led up to the Astronomy Tower.
He’d let her in on the biggest secret of his short life, and she’d hesitated. She’d been indecisive and doubtful, her uncertainty so painful to witness he’d had to leave. She couldn’t know how much she’d hurt him. The way she’d gaped at him after his sarcastic use of her first name was proof of that.
But he couldn’t let her go.
He’d never been under a spell quite like the one she’d ensnared him with; everything was so much sharper, so much clearer, when she was around. He needed her to protect him from himself, and he hadn’t been lying when he’d said he would give everything up for that. He was still the same selfish little boy he’d been six years ago; he was thinking of nothing but his own safety, and she was his savior.
He was willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, but she wasn’t. He was ready to change his entire life for one person, and she wasn’t.
“Draco! Wait!” he heard her call, breaking into his thoughts. He watched, with some amusement, as she practically flew towards him, her hair streaming out behind her and her cheeks flushed from exertion.
She was so stunningly beautiful, his breath caught.
“What is it, Hermione?” he asked pointedly, putting extra emphasis on her name.
“I need to know something,” she replied, her penetrating gaze searing into him.
“Oh? And what is that?”
“Do you love me?”
He heard the question as if he was far, far away; and he wished desperately that he was. He’d never dared to ponder what exactly it was that he felt for her, but now it seemed he had no choice.
He knew that he didn’t like her, that they had next to nothing in common, and argued incessantly. He knew that their friends hated each other, that when the time came they’d be on different sides of the battle, and that up until a few weeks ago they’d each have gladly murdered the other.
He knew that he would gladly forfeit everything and everyone he held dear just for the security she offered; he would surrender his beliefs, surrender his inheritance, and surrender his friends: just for her. He knew that he wanted more than anything to have her close by, wanted to drape his arm so carelessly across her shoulder without being hexed for it; he knew that he wanted her to love him, wanted her to stare up at him with those big brown eyes close to bursting with affection.
A slow smile affixed itself across his face as he regarded her steadily.
“I can’t possibly love you, Hermione. I’m supposed to hate you, remember? I’m supposed to curse your name and wish you were dead. I’m supposed to lie to you and call you names and break your heart,” he whispered, taking a step towards her.
She didn’t back away, didn’t risk moving.
“I’m supposed to forget you’re smarter than me and remember everything you’ve ever done better. I’m supposed to think of you as Potter’s lackey, Potter’s friend, Potter’s helper. But guess what?”
She was afraid to blink.
“I’m defying convention, Hermione. I’m telling you I love you, telling you that I’ll break all the rules for you. I’m telling you that nothing and no one matters as much to me as you do. I’m telling you everything you won’t believe and everything you want to. I’m telling you the truth,” he murmured, a scant few inches between their bodies.
She did nothing but close off the remaining distance, relaxing into his embrace without delay.
It was a kiss of tenderness rather than passionate ferocity; his mind was reeling at the exhilarating sensation that should have been unsettling but he found to be thrilling. His mouth moved over hers, his tongue tracing her lips as she gasped; his knuckles grazed over the delicate line of her jaw, eliciting a shiver as she pressed closer. His hands wandered down her back and encircled her waist, her own fingers curling around the back of his neck and faintly trailing through his hair. She could feel every delicious inch of him, every wonderful, totally inadequate, part of him rubbing against her.
“Draco,” she said breathlessly, pulling back.
“Yeah?” he responded, in a staggering daze.
“I just wanted you to know that I changed my answer,” she told him, her chest heaving.
“What are you talking about?” he asked quizzically, raising an eyebrow.
“I know now. I know if I’d give it all up for you,” she answered.
He said nothing, merely let her go and returned to his place in the corridor.
“Draco, I would do anything for--” she stopped, her expression changing instantly as she caught sight of something behind him.
“What--”
“Hermione? Is he bothering you?” Harry Potter, hero-boy extraordinaire, stood a few feet behind Draco, his frown a clear indication of his displeasure at seeing his best friend and his worst nightmare together.
“Oh. Harry. Hello,” she responded uneasily, her startled, frightened gaze flying back and forth between the two boys.
“Yeah, Hermione, am I bothering you?” Draco inquired coldly, knowing that she wouldn’t treat him any differently than she was supposed to. Not in front of Potter.
“Well…no,” she said noncommittally.
“I told you to leave her alone, Malfoy,” Potter turned his attention to Draco.
“Whatever, Potter. Your precious girlfriend just happened to ruin my day, so if you’ll excuse me I’ll go back to plotting your untimely deaths.”
He swept past them both, casting Hermione a thoroughly disgusted look before rounding the corner and collapsing in an empty classroom.
He was fairly sure she’d just broken his heart.
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She’d gotten rid of Harry somehow, explaining quickly that she just needed some time alone. As soon as he’d left her, she raced down the corridor and began flinging open doors, hoping against hope he was somewhere she could find him.
She saw him sitting on a desk facing a window, his knees pulled up and his arms folded across them.
“Draco,” she implored, breaking through his reverie, “I just wanted--”
“Wanted what? To tell me how very much you’re willing to give up for me?” he laughed harshly, the sound echoing through the room and making her wince.
“You can’t begin to understand how betrayed Harry would feel--”
“Oh, believe me Granger. I can understand. Betrayal’s my specialty, remember? And as a connoisseur, let me congratulate you on your superb edification of it,” he snarled, sliding to his feet and swatting at a chair.
“Like you would have done any different!” she shouted, finally getting angry.
“How nice that you’re relieving yourself of that Gryffindor stereotype that all of us Slytherins are too detached and unfeeling to have real friends whose opinion we value,” he shot back, his voice brittle and his eyes flashing.
He didn’t deny her accusation, simply because he wasn’t really certain what he would have done had it been a Slytherin that had walked by.
Furious that she had made a valid point, he strode to the doorway and ignored her guttural protest.
“One last thing, Granger,” he said, feigning indifference and swallowing painfully. “I meant what I said. Every single word.”
She let him leave, knowing that he’d only said it to make her feel guilty, to make her feel just as terrible as he did.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled to the empty classroom. “So, so sorry.” A strangled sob, and then, “I love you. That’s what I was going to say. All I was going to say.”
But even she knew she had spoken too late.
OOO
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