Draco's POV:
I had to force myself not to fall in love with Hermione. Even if she did feel the same way, Harry Potter was one of the most important people in her life. He'd been there for her through thick and thin. If I wanted her, I needed to befriend him first. Except for I didn't really like the thought of that. Sure, I'd wanted to befriend him the moment I'd first spoken to him, but he rejected my handshake. That was my fault. I had been very cruel about asking him to be my friend. Then again, that weasel had laughed at my name. No. You cannot go back to your old habits. It was very rarely that I had to remind myself of this. Still, though, he laughed at my name, Draco Malfoy, the way he reacted was his choice, and the way I responded to it was mine. I deserved half of the blame for that situation. I could've been a lot more mature about the situation. I had been childish, and the 'Golden Trio' had every right to blame me for everything that had happened. Actually, they weren't really a trio now. Since Hermione was dreading talking to Ron and I'm not exactly sure if Harry was still friends with Ron. "How is it that this snow is actually starting to affect my temperature even though it's almost 80 degrees surrounding us?" I quietly ask. She shrugs her shoulders carelessly.
"I can't be sure, but it is snow. It's supposed to be cold." She replies. Yes, that was right, snow wasn't necessarily supposed to be warm. If snow was warm then it had most likely been affected by something. Technically, magic snow could be of a warmer temperature if the witch or wizard so chose for it to be. In this case, it was the temperature of normal snow that added to the feel of everything. It was unnatural, yes, but Hermione always found a way to make things work.
"I'm going to go back inside now. I think the snow has helped." I nod towards the door, then walk back to the house. I'd conjured a fire, but really I could just step back into the July heat.
A few moments later, Hermione enters the room with snow still clinging to her curls. Beautiful, golden-brown curls. I stopped denying the fact that I'd grown to like her much more than a friend. She removes the cream-colored cardigan that she'd been wearing, a white shirt with thin straps beneath it. I look away quickly, trying to avoid her. I knew she'd be sitting down in a few moments, but-
"What should we do now?" She asks, interrupting my thoughts. I instantly press my lips into a thin line. Her arms were draped over my shoulders and as much as I loved the feeling, I did NOT want her to see the blush that I felt creeping onto my face. I couldn't tell her, not yet, one day, but not today. Or anytime soon, for that matter.
Hermione's POV:
My arms were draped carefully over his shoulders, which immediately tightened the minute I came into contact with him. I didn't want him to dislike the fact that I was performing a friendly gesture. Wasn't it normal for friends to do things like this? I didn't know, except I did. I had been like this towards Harry all the time, so why did Draco tense like this? Harry never did, but Ron had. No, he doesn't like me. At least not the way Ron had. Right? I hoped not. That would be horrible, I didn't feel like that for Draco at all. Not at all. I think? I had to ask myself this! This was horrible, I couldn't go around having a fiance one minute, a boyfriend two weeks later. I needed time to figure things out. I AM NOT READY FOR ANOTHER RELATIONSHIP! Why was I reminding myself of this? I mean, I'd hardly gotten out of a relationship less than two weeks ago. I couldn't go around having one relationship, another one the next. I just couldn't do that, it wasn't me. Maybe he'd responded to my question. No, I would've heard.
"I don't know. What is there to do?" He asks. I immediately shake my head, he wasn't supposed to respond to me in a question. He was supposed to come up with an idea on what we could do the rest of today. It was what, 3:30. Not too late, maybe we could go on a walk. Maybe he was an artist. That made me laugh, before fourth year had actually started the Weasley's invited Harry and I to watch a quidditch tournament. Ron described Viktor Krum as an artist when we were still in the Diggory's tent. Then later in the year, there was the Triwizard Tournament which resulted in Cedric Diggory's death. He was too young, only seventeen. Barty Crouch Jr. had put Harry's name in the goblet of fire. In the maze, Harry and Cedric both grabbed the cup, which was actually a port-key, and been taken to a graveyard. There, Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail, used Avada Kedavra on Cedric. I'd never really gotten close to Cedric, but Harry had grown to be a great friend of Cedric's. Nobody deserved to be tortured by one of the unforgivable curses, except maybe Lucius Malfoy, the abusive father of Draco. That's why he'd been so cruel. His mother, Narcissa Malfoy wasn't as horrible as Lucius. She'd still chosen her HUSBAND over her son. The man she married over her son whom she'd raised, trying to change his perspective of things. But Draco had gone to his father over mother. I'm not sure if it was force or instinct. But I did know that it was not fully Draco's choice. I don't think so. He didn't have a choice, Lucius forced him to do everything. Lucius hadn't forced him to bully Harry, Ron, and I, but it was still Lucius' fault. Draco was abused, he was scared.
"Do you draw? Or paint?" I ask, he then leans forward and gets off the sofa.
"Not much, I'm not very good." He replies. I feel a smile creeping onto my face. He drew or painted, or both.
"Can I see? I'm sure you're a lot better than you think." I smile, encouraging his activity. Usually, people didn't see how beautiful their own work was when really it was amazing. I didn't do much art. I thoroughly enjoyed reading but never thought of becoming an author myself.
"I can show you, just let me go get them." He replies then proceeds in running off to his room. A few minutes later he returns with a few canvases tucked under his arm. When leaning to the side I could tell that what he had drawn or painted were landscapes. "Here." He says, then lays the canvases out on the coffee table. These even further proved my point, people didn't see the beauty in their own creations.
"How long did these take you?" I ask in awe.
"Not long, a few months at most." He shrugs his shoulders in response. A few months wasn't 'not long'.
"They're really nice. You should hang them up somewhere." I hold the painting up to look at places it would fit on the walls. There was one wall that was covered with photographs, a few of Draco and Narcissa. In those images, it looked as though they were taken when he was much younger, maybe 14. They looked so happy there, I was surprised by what their relationship had become. I didn't understand how she could do that to her own son but I guess that's just what happened. She made a horrible mistake, everybody made mistakes. And sometimes, that specific person found a way to make up for their mistakes. I was sure that Lucius and Narcissa would side with each other though, so why get my hopes up? Why get my hopes up that one day I'd get to formally meet Narcissa Malfoy? I didn't even know why I would want to meet her. My friend's mother, what was the point. Sure, I'd met Ron's family but that was because we'd been friends for a few years at that point. George never got over his twins' death. They were the duo, the two people who caused mayhem, but together they made everyone's life better. I'd like to think that James and Lily, Harry's parents, were looking after Fred in the afterlife. I'd also like to believe that one day I'd love Ron as I had before but there wasn't a high chance of that happening. I had time, time to heal, and time to become a better person.
Draco's POV:
Thankfully Hermione was now distracted by my canvases and no longer had her arms draped on my shoulders. I still looked at the floor, trying not to look at her. I hated myself, I couldn't look at her without turning crimson. Why? Why couldn't I have just shoved her off of me that day at the book shop? Because she deserved an apology, not just my desire to apologize. I would've still been stressing over the fact that I would never earn her forgiveness. At least there was that to be thankful for. But I'd eventually forgotten about the war, right. Now I lived with her, I saw her every day, I could hardly pull my eyes off of her. I wish I could think of this as just a little crush but that was almost impossible. Sure it was a crush, it wasn't so little though. How could I let it come this far? I could've found somebody else but of course, it had to be her. I wasn't mad about it, she'd started wearing outfits that accentuated her curves. Why was I paying attention to that?! I'd never thought of anybody else in this way. What is wrong with me? Except maybe, just maybe I was completely normal.
Hermione's POV:
And of course, Draco needed time as well. We couldn't all change at the same speed, some people needed more, others needed less. But I was an insufferable know-it-all, just as Professor Snape had described me as. He wasn't wrong, I knew the answers to all the questions, spoke out of term, etc. I don't believe I'm as bad now as I was when I was 14. Then again, I wasn't asked many questions now. I wasn't in school and there was no need to use my knowledge as often.
"Do you think of me as an insufferable know-it-all?" I ask, holding one of thee paintings towards a window, watching light pour through the canvas. Maybe stained glass would be a nice addition to the cottage one day.
"As of today, no. When we were in school, yes." He replies, looking at his feet. The tips of Draco's ears were blush pink, hardly noticeable. 'Do you think of me as a spoiled Death Eater?"
"No." I reply in hopes that we wouldn't stay on that topic. He was there when Dumbledore died and I didn't feel like thinking about that right now. We raised our wands to his death. He was our headmaster and a great one at that. Dumbledore lived a long life but still had a few years to go. Then about a year later, Snape died. And at the time I thought he deserved his fate. But then, I hadn't known he killed Dumbledore, protected Draco, and became a Death Eater to protect Harry. Just after the war, before Hogwarts had been prepared, I lived with Harry in case he ever needed anything, I woke up to his quill scratching 'after all this time? always.' into spare bits of parchment. He truthfully told me that it was something Dumbledore and Snape discussed when he went to the pensive and saw Snape's memories. Professor Snape had been in love with Lily Evans for I don't know how many years. I felt as though Professor Snape deserved his redemption so I ended up getting Harry to describe Snape's Pensieve to the school which ultimately resulted in our wands being held to the sky in remembrance of our potion and DADA teacher. Both were in the afterlife, a Heaven for wizards. They were all home now. Cedric, Dumbledore, Snape, Fred, Remus, Tonks, Harry's parents. And they were happy, watching over us. I wouldn't forget them. They'd always have a special place in my heart but I couldn't dread the past. I would proceed with my life and be happy that we were safe. I think. I hoped we were safe, Voldemort was gone and Death Eaters were in Azkaban. I couldn't think of any threats at the moment. Moving on from that depressing subject, why did I find myself thinking about him all the time? And why wouldn't he look me in my eyes now? If only I was able to understand body language. I understood the most difficult of schoolwork so why not body language? Because it wasn't one of my priorities. And I didn't 'like-like' him. That wasn't logical. Right? Unless it was and I was acting like a stupid lovesick puppy. That wasn't me and it never would be. I would be that girl who aced all her classes. And didn't know when to shut her mouth. I would always be her. I wouldn't start being the girl who was quiet and blushed over the thought of a boy. That was more like what Pansy Parkinson or Lavender Brown would do. I most definitely wasn't anything like them. I despised girls like them all throughout sixth year. And now there was a chance I was like them. Tripping over my words. Why? I couldn't be in love with Malfoy. It was physically impossible. I'd hated him a whole lot longer than I'd liked him. Plus, I was a Gryffindor. He was a Slytherin. Our houses had hated, I mean really hated, like loathed each other for centuries. I wasn't going to ruin that 'tradition' or whatever it was. But I couldn't hide forever. I couldn't stuff myself into a corner, into the shadow. I loved him and I couldn't deny that. Even if you didn't know us, you could tell by the way I looked at him. Or how I showed interest in anything he said. I was in love, not even a year after 'the big breakup'. I was in love.
Third Person POV:
Finally. Hermione realized the truth. But she couldn't just go up to Malfoy and say 'I'm desperately in love with you'. It was the same story with him. There were so many factors, factors that weren't supposed to fail to keep them apart. Pureblood and Muggleborn. Gryffindor and Slytherin. Yet they found themselves longing for the other. She wanted his hands on her hips. He wanted to feel her lips on his. He wanted her. She wanted him. And how would any of this work? How would Harry Potter react? His best friend in love with the 'golden trio's' enemy. The enemy they had before Lord Voldemort made a large impact on their lives. It was impossible. For Hermione to love one without losing the other. And soon she would find herself in a position where she had to choose between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. The boy who lived, the boy who defeated Tom Riddle, more commonly referred to as Lord Voldemort. Slytherin Prince, son of Lucius Malfoy, death eater. This was what they were known as. This was who they were, two different people. And Hermione Granger, muggle-born, Gryffindor Princess, the brightest witch of her age. Of her generation even. She loved both Slytherin Prince and The boy who lived. And she couldn't have both. She couldn't live without both. She needed both. Just choose. Future Hermione would tell herself. It's not that hard. Except for it was.