Chapter Text
Part 1
Sunday 1st September 1996
It was third year that Draco noticed how Hermione Granger’s eyes light up when she is positively enraged. Her eyes darken with anger so much that the hint of gold to them is overcome by the dark hazel and she looks downright adorable.
It took him a few seconds to take in her hysterical complexion that he missed his chance to dodge her right arm that headed straight for his face.
She didn’t even hesitate.
It was fourth year when he realised how breathtaking she looked with her wild hair flowing down her back, reaching her slim waist and her uniform a-screw as she ran to defence against the dark arts after sleeping in by accident.
Many might’ve realised her beauty during the yule ball but Draco preferred this look compared to the Granger that managed to make every head turn in admiration within seconds that night. She gave Moody a very over-the-top apology and offered to come to detention willingly to show how sorry she was. Bloody golden girl.
Much to his dismay, she wasn’t late again.
By fifth year, Draco knew his feelings towards Granger were climbing at an alarming rate. No matter how many times he berated himself and reminded himself of his upbringing and his responsibility as a pureblood heir to the Malfoy line, he couldn’t stop turning his head in her direction every morning when she walked into the great hall with her nose already in a book.
He called her a filthy mudblood and told her that she didn’t deserve to lick the dirt of his boots but she always managed to walk away without a word and with her dignity somehow intact. When Draco was heaving up vomit and bile in the boys lavatory straight after, he still realised how she looked at him as if he was worth something more.
Now here he is. Platform 9 3/4, saying goodbye to his mother as he got ready to board the Hogwart’s express to complete his sixth year at Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As he hugged his mother, a mane of curly hair managed to catch his gaze. For the first time, Draco managed to control himself enough to look away.
He didn’t deserve to look at her. Not anymore.
Not now, with what he is and what he has. No one that pure should have their light dimmed with one look from someone like him.
He let go of his mother and muttered an “of course mother” when she reminded him to write to her. With one last nod towards her, Draco boarded the train and found his fellow Slytherins waiting for him in their cart.
…
Trudging up to his seat in the great hall, he didn’t even bother hiding his expression of defeat from the rest of the school. Everyone was watching him. Or at least it felt like it.
Fucking hell.
Can’t a bloke be miserable in peace?
Fuck.
I can’t believe I actually did it.
The dark fucking mark.
Fuck me.
Lucius had one job. Be a sodding father to him and he managed to fuck that up too. As if getting thrown in Azkaban wasn’t enough, Draco has to pay the fucking price with a bat shit crazy aunt in his house and a reminder for the rest of his life of how weak of a man he is branded onto his arm.
Fuck.
He looked up and of course the first thing he see’s is an innocent face. Except this innocent face looks different.
Down.
Dismal.
What happened to the golden girl?
The book that she always has with her is closed on top of the table and she’s poking her food on her plate. Her face is sunken in. She looks weak and tired. Dark under eyes, the evidence of sleepless nights. Draco knew that feeling well. He haven’t slept properly in weeks. Ever since he got that thing on his arm.
She needs to eat.
Why isn’t she eating?
They have her favourite tonight. Simple mash potatoes with gravy and peas but its as if she’s in a different world right now. Maybe she’s just tired from not sleeping.
Yes, that’s it.
She’s just tired.
She has to be because if the brightest witch of her age isn’t so bright anymore then there’s no hope for anyone else.