I think I was the first student Potter met before he came to Hogwarts? I didn't realise who the git was at the time. I spoke to him again on the train to Hogsmeade, probably even before you two had met. I made him an offer to be friends. Do you know what he said to me?" he asked, rhetorically.
She shook her head, cautiously curious at the tangent he was on.
"He said he could work out for himself who was the right sort of person to be friends with. Gave me a look like I was a pond scum scraped off the bottom of his shoe."
There was a remarkable amount of bitterness in his voice. Hermione was surprised at how much thought he have given the incident.
She was silent for a moment. And then, she shrugged. "You probably acted like an ass."
"That' s beside the point," he insisted, raising a finger for emphasis. "It' s not coincidence so much as destiny. It's almost fitting that Potter met me first so he could work out which side of the spectrum to situate himself. People like extremes because they're comforting. They set standards and boundaries. I'm sure Potter got it into his little head, after that first encounter, that he was on the other end of the scale, as far away from me as is metaphorically possible. He likes it like that. So does Voldemort, I'd wager."
For some reason, Hermione wasn' t pleased to hear this. She had always thought him a more 'bugger you, I make my own destiny' sort of person. This version of Malfoy was too fatalistic.
Maybe he had Seer's blood in him. Seers were the most depressing people a person could know.
Except for Sybil Trelawney, of course. That woman was just plain old crazy.
"I don't agree," she admitted.
"You don't have to," he responded.
"Harry doesn't have a biased bone in his body." Funnily enough, Hermione knew this to be untrue as soon as she said it.
"If it comforts you to think that," Draco replied, coolly.
"Why do you dislike him so much?"
"Why do you defend him so much?" he snapped at her, harshly enough that she was startled.
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it. She supposed she did defend Harry quite a bit. But only because Malfoy seemed to make it his personal mission in life to malign her friend whenever possible.
Draco narrowed his eyes, as if coming to some slow, creeping conclusion. "You have feelings for him." It was a statement he didn't seem to like making.
"Of course I do. We've been friends since we were eleven!"
He snorted. "Your infatuation won' t go anywhere. Potter doesn' t think of you as more than a friend," he said, as if he were giving her the best advice of her life.
She blinked, as understanding came late, as usual, where Malfoy was concerned.
He was an utter moron sometimes.
"Hang on. We aren' t talking about the same thing, are we? I' m not in love with Harry, you idiot."
God, she detested it when he walked away from her whenever she got confrontational. It was the height of rudeness. The aggravation she felt was beyond enduring. It hurt to be dismissed by him.
"I hate you when you do that," she muttered. It was a mutinous, but private exclamation. He wasn't supposed to hear.
He heard, though. He always heard her.
Draco folded his arms "Aren't you a fickle one
Hate or love, Granger, which one is it? Half an hour ago, you were fairly screaming the latter in my ear."
She would not be baited by his wild and irritating exaggerations. Instead, she maintained her dignity and looked down her nose at him.
"You are such a tosser sometimes, Draco Malfoy."
"Ah, but only because you've made me into one," he announced with some lasciviousness. He trotted over and pulled her into his arms She suspected it was his way of apologising for being rude.
"Let go," Hermione said.
He smiled. "Never."
And then he tilted her chin up with his knuckles and proceeded to give her the slowest, most gentle kiss she had ever received from him. It was all very unusual and unsettling.
He wasn' t a soft kisser. Wispy, feather-light, butterfly kisses were not very Draco. He kissed like he insulted; forcefully and on occasion, cruelly. He usually kissed her like he wanted to leave an imprint on more than just her flesh.
It was a pleasant change. Hermione did not require any coaxing. She shivered when his tongue rubbed delicately against hers. The pressure of his