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My Savior	By : ShelbieRae Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9298 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own harry Potter, and I make no profit from this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: I know that I take way too long to update this story guys, and I’m so sorry. I have to really be in the mood to write on this, because building romance between these two is so hard to do. But here we go! Another chapter, and the romance is building! Hermione is at war with herself, and Draco is panicking, how will they react?
Hermione was avoiding him.
Draco had accepted that he had acted in a highly irrational way. He had snogged the Bookworm for Godric’s sake!
And he had loved it.
Draco had wanted to blame the Veela hormones immediately after it had happened. Surely, he wouldn’t have kissed her willingly otherwise. Despite the fact that he no longer held prejudice against her blood, she was still Hermione Granger, hands down the most insufferable know-it-all that Draco had ever met, as well as the most difficult woman to ever grace his presence.
Once Draco had forced himself to think about her soft lips moving against his, her curvy body pressed against his muscular frame in the most delicious way, the heavenly sighs that had escaped her swollen lips when he licked her delectable skin, he realized that his entire being hummed with a feeling of rightness, and he knew that he could no longer deny his growing need to be with her.
With this realization weighing heavily on him, he also recognized that Hermione was probably terrified. Without a doubt, he knew she knew. All it took was for him to look into her eyes that night and he knew that she knew.
Draco was desperate to talk to her, desperate to hear what she was thinking, to know whether she was willing to hear him out. And he was terrified that he would never get the chance.
His life, and potentially his heart, was in her hands, and he was running out of time.
~
Hermione, for once in her life, had no idea what to do. No book her precious library, no amount of studying, no amount of knowledge could help her when it came to men.
Or, more specifically, one man.
And that’s what scared her the most.
She hated being unprepared and not knowing what was happening; she hated being in the dark.
Even more, she hated that she had kissed her mortal enemy, and had loved it. It had been the best bloody kiss she had ever received in her short life. It had been so passionate, and yet he had been so gentle, treating her like she was a treasure to be worshiped.
She got chills when she thought about it.
But it was Draco Malfoy!
He was the slimy, disgusting git that had tortured her and her friends for the better part of her life.
He was also the Draco Malfoy who had been nothing but polite to her since returning, had apologized for being the ass he was, had snogged her senseless and left her blood boiling in a way that shot straight down to her core.
There was also no way she could even consider being romantically involved with him.
As Hermione warred with herself, she was completely unaware that Ginny was watching her closely. The redhead had noticed that she had been acting strange, and she was determined to find out what was going on.
“Hey, Hermione, I feel like we haven’t got to spend a ton of time together since we returned,” Ginny said, linking arms with Hermione in the corridor.
“I’m so sorry, Gin! I’ve been so busy in my classes, I’ve had my Head duties—”
Ginny cut her off, “Well, how about you come to my dorm tonight and we can do some catching up?”
Hermione nodded vigorously; this was perfect. She could avoid the uncomfortable discussion that Draco would inevitably want to have, and she could spend some time with her friend. She had missed Ginny dearly, and she really needed to talk to someone she knew would be able to keep quiet about her current predicament.
When Hermione made it to Potions, she was so lost in thought that she tripped over her own feet and began her perilous decent to the hard stone floor.
Right before her face made contact with stone, two firm arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her upright. Hermione was about to turn around and thank the person who had caught her when she realized that her body was humming with a now familiar satisfaction, and she knew that if she turned around, her brown eyes would meet grey eyes.
Despite this, Hermione turned around, and sure enough, Draco’s deep grey pools were staring back at her. She tried to make herself look away, to distangle herself from his arms, to say something, but her body was rebelling against her, telling her that this was where she belonged.
“Are you okay, Hermione?” Draco murmured quietly, breaking her stupor.
Hermione struggled in his arms, and he let go. She looked around and was mortified to realize that almost the entire class was staring at them. Her face burned bright red, and she finally turned back to the blond.
“I’m fine, thank you, Draco,” Hermione said coolly before turning around and walking to her seat.
Draco’s irritation was hard to conceal; this damned women and her mood swings and stubbornness would be the death of him. One minute he wanted to snog her senseless and make her forget her own name, and the next he wanted to shake her senseless or choke her.
Instead, he opted for a simple eye roll and scowl before taking his seat next to her.
The stars seemed to be aligned in Hermione’s favor, because Slughorn announced that he would be using today’s class to lecture, as the next potion they would be brewing was particularly difficult and dangerous.
This ensure that Draco would have no opportunity to try and talk to her, and she could think about how she was going to tell Ginny.
Hermione knew that her friend would never dream of judging her, but she was scared nonetheless. This was Draco Malfoy, the man the single-handedly let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, was responsible for Dumbledore’s death, and was a part of the group of people that had sent the world into chaos. Would Ginny be able to look past this as Hermione was beginning to? Would she be able to see that Draco was slowly changing for the better? That, just maybe, or so Hermione was tempted to believe, he never truly believed in the blood prejudice he had spent so many years preaching?
She wasn’t ready to deal with it. She wasn’t ready to talk about it. But most of all, she didn’t want to reveal the part of her that kept questioning why she was fighting this so hard.
~
When Hermione arrived at Ginny’s dorm that night, she immediately knew that Ginny knew something was going on. Ginny fixed Hermione with a scrutinizing stare, the one she usually reserved for her brothers or Harry when she knew they were hiding things.
“Hermione,” Ginny said calmly, “What is going on with you? You’ve been checked out for days. Talk to me, you know I’ll listen.”
Hermione paused for a moment, and then she burst into tears. All of her fear, frustration, and anger poured out of her, and she ran into Ginny’s waiting arms.
Once Hermione had managed to calm down, her mouth opened, and once she began talking about her situation, she found she couldn’t stop.
For Ginny’s credit, she stayed silent the entre time. She listened to Hermione talk about Malfoy apologizing, protecting her, and, finally, about his true nature and the part she played in it.
After she was done, Ginny was silent for a beat, before she reacted the way Hermione expected her to react all along.
“What the bleeding fuck?!” Ginny seethed, “How dare he drag you into this fucked up situation? This is his problem, not yours. The audacity that that ferret has after everything he’s done to you, to Harry, to Ron—”
Ginny continued to rant until Hermione stopped her.
“Gin, he can’t help it, that’s not how Veelas work,” Hermione settled herself down to explain, “From the time a Veela is born, he or she has been fated to one person whom they are destined to meet and love for the rest of their life. They can’t hurt them, they don’t want to, they are devoted to them, attend to their every need, protect them with their life…” Hermione trailed off, thinking, just briefly, about the fact that that honestly didn’t sound incredibly bad.
Ginny watched Hermione carefully, gauging her reaction. Hermione was biting her lip, deep in thought; clearly what was happening was bothering her more than she was letting on. Could Malfoy really be affecting her this much? Was Hermione falling for him? Ginny bit her own lip. Hermione was her best friend, and one of the smartest people she knew. She would never make a decision that would harm anyone, including herself. If she really thought Malfoy had changed, and was willing to forgive him, then Ginny was willing to trust her judgement.
Ginny wrapped her arms back around Hermione, and tried her best to soothe her. Inside, a war was waging. Ginny knew that in order for Hermione to make the best decision for her, she deserved to know everything.
“Hermione, there’s something I need to tell you,” Ginny said hesitantly.
Hermione looked up and at her friend. The normally fiery redhead was looking cautious and unsure.
“What is it, Gin?” Hermione asked cautiously, “Is there something I should know?”
Ginny bit into her lip again, and sighed.
“Do you remember when the war was over, and we had a memorial service for Fred?” Ginny asked quietly.
“Of course, I remember,” Hermione said tearfully. She still missed the Weasley twin dearly.
“After it was over, I realized that I had left my satchel at the grave side,” Ginny began, “and when I went back to get it, I saw a figure on its knees in front of Fred’s gravestone. I thought it was someone we knew...” Ginny trailed off.
Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. What did this have to do with Malfoy and their situation?
“I started towards the person, prepared to comfort them. I wanted them to know they weren’t alone, and that everyone was hurting. But, when the person got up and turned around. I was able to see who was under the cloak. It was Malfoy.” Ginny’s voice broke on this last part.
Anger flared in Hermione’s eyes. How dare Malfoy infiltrate their mourning? Had he been there to gloat? Why hadn’t Ginny said anything?
“I was really angry at first. I started towards him again, prepared to bite his head off or hex him, I wasn’t sure. Before I reached him, I looked back at the headstone. There, at the base, was a bouquet of flowers.”
Hermione gasped. Malfoy had never had anything but contempt for the Weasley’s; why would he care enough to honor Fred’s life?
“I was struck dumb. I had no idea what to do or say, so I hid behind the closest tree. I don’t think he ever saw me. I started going back every week, to see if anymore flowers had been brought. Every week, the same unique breed of flower was there at the headstone, but I didn’t see Malfoy again, until the last week before term.”
Ginny continued to look at her hands, which were twisting nervously, this way and that. Hermione’s mind was spinning, and she could barely believe what she was hearing. However, she knew that Ginny would never lie to her, and she was practical. If there was any doubt to be had about what had happened, Ginny would have simply dismissed the events altogether.
“I went back the week before term was set to start, and he was there again. I wanted to confront him, I wanted to know why he kept coming back,” Ginny swallowed hard, “As I approached him, I heard him talking. I heard him say that visiting Fred’s grave was always the hardest, because the Weasley’s had been Harry’s family for years. I heard him tell Fred that he didn’t deserve to die for something that should never have been challenged. I was utterly shocked; I couldn’t move.
Finally, I heard him say the most shocking thing of all: that he was sorry. He was sorry for the pain he had caused. He was sorry that he had fought on the wrong side in cowardice and that he hadn’t been strong enough. And most of all, he was sorry for all the pain he had caused. He was sobbing; he looked so broken. I didn’t know what to do, so I slowly backed away, and hid behind a tree until he left.”
Tears were streaming down Ginny’s face at this point; it was clear that Malfoy’s actions had shook the redhead to the bone.
“I didn’t understand what he meant when he said that Fred’s grave was the hardest to visit, until I looked around at the graves of the other victims of the war. At the base of every headstone, sat the very same flowers that say at the base of Fred’s.”
Ginny let out a sob as she finished her story. It was now Hermione’s turn to comfort her best friend, as she cried her heart out for her brother, whose death still, and probably always would, haunted their family.
After her last tear had dried, Ginny looked at her friend.
“Hermione, I know that I act like I think that Malfoy is still the same pretentious prick we have always known, but it’s because deep down, I can’t imagine him being anything else. I can’t see him being the broken, yet compassionate man I saw in the graveyard. I can’t reconcile the two.”
Hermione nodded, understanding her friend completely. She could barely convince herself that Malfoy had simply changed, or that he may not have ever been a prick to begin with, but she had seen the subtle changes. She could no longer deny that he was not the same evil, twisted, sadistic person they had grown up with. Suddenly, she knew what had to be done.
~
Draco looked up from his Transfiguration essay to see Hermione marching through the portrait hole with a determined look on her face. Draco instantly dove under the table, in fear that she may be on another rampage, with a mission to slap him or maim him in some other way.
Hermione rolled her eyes and said politely, “Malfoy, do you think we could talk for a moment?”
Draco peeked over the top of the table and stood up abruptly. Once swiping the imaginary dust off his trousers, he put his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet.
“Sure, I suppose we could.” He murmured, more to his shoes than her.
Hermione fidgeted for a few moments, before she moved towards the couch in front of the fire. She was not sure how she should approach this; how does one approach a person they’ve hated for a few years about such a touchy subject?
Before her brain could process what she was about to say, she blurted, “Why did you put flowers on Fred Weasley’s grave?”
Malfoy froze on the couch next to her, sitting rigid as a board. Finally, after a few moments, his shoulders sagged, and he spoke up, “After the war, I struggled with my inner demons, much like so many others. I knew I had no right; most of my demons were caused by no one but myself and the stupid decisions I allowed myself to make.” Draco swallowed, and his hands started shaking. Without thinking, Hermione reached over and grabbed his hand. It was warm, and softer than she would have imagined. It felt… right.
Draco looked at her from the corner of his eye. He wanted to say something to her, to tell her how complete he felt when she touched him. He was afraid, however, and he didn’t want to scare her off. He elected to ignore the urge to react, and continued with his story.
“My mother urged me constantly to see someone, even if it was just to talk to someone. As much as I love my mother, I couldn’t justify seeking help. I couldn’t even walk in Diagon Alley without being brutally and violently treated; so many people despised me and what my family had stood for, with good reason.
I had also convinced myself that this was my punishment for everything I had done. For the crimes I had committed, in the name of a hatred that I had never believed, for a man I despised. I accepted the punishment for my cowardice.”
Draco took a ragged breath; he couldn’t believe he was sharing this with her. He had never even shared this with his mother, with whom he was the closest. He felt Hermione squeeze his hand, encouraging him to continue. He looked up and into her eyes, seeing a quiet anger, no doubt as a result of the injustices she felt he suffered; he gave her a weak smile and continued.
“So, I ignored her pleas to seek help. If I didn’t want to help myself, what stranger would go out of their way to help me?
I began having nightmares, many of which starred people that had died as a result of my actions. Dumbledore, Lavender Brown, Fred Weasley, Tonks and Professor Lupin….so many others. I barely got any sleep; how could I, when I saw their faces every time I dared to shut my eyes?”
Hermione’s eyes began to well with tears. Draco’s story was filled with so much heartbreak, not just his. So many innocent people had lost their lives; his story was just a reminder among all the others, but it didn’t make Hermione’s heart ache less.
“One night, after a particularly bad dream, I found myself wandering to the cemetery, where most of the war victims had been buried. I came to the grave of a young boy, who had only been fourteen during the war, fourteen.” Tears were streaming down Draco’s face at this point, and his voice was broken.
“This young lad barely got to live. He spent the better part of his teenage years terrified and in the midst of war. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I sank to my knees in front of his grave and began sobbing. I poured my heart out, apologized for the life he never had, the family he could never build, the love he lost the opportunity to feel, and felt spent afterwards. But to my utter shock, I felt better than I had in months. I felt liberated. I felt like I was finally dealing with how I felt.
After that night, I began going back to the cemetery, placing flowers on the grave of the victims. I started out with the names I didn’t know, because I didn’t know if I was quite ready to face those I had known.
Finally, after a few weeks, I found myself deciding to visit the grave of someone I knew. It was time. When I arrived at the cemetery, I noted that there was a large group surrounding a headstone. Most of the large group was adorned with red hair, so I could only assume it was a pack of Weasley’s.”
In spite of herself, Hermione giggled. Draco looked at her, and smirked slightly. She had an adorable giggle.
“After the group left, I approached the gravestone, and recognized the Weasley twin’s name. A pang of sadness and guilt went through my heart; I knew that the Weasley’s had always been family to Potter, and I owed him my life. After that day, visiting Fred’s grave was always the hardest, but most necessary action I could have taken.”
When Draco finished his story, Hermione sat in stunned silence, unsure of what to make of what he told her. It must have taken great courage to come clean to her about this, and she admired that. There was just one thing that bothered her.
“You did not deserve to be treated that way,” Hermione suddenly fumed, making Draco jump, “the end of the war was supposed to represent peace and unity, not division and more hatred! I didn’t put my life on the line and almost die every single day, just so that the hatred could continue.”
Hermione seethed on, and Draco couldn’t help finding her tyraid heartwarming and a little adorable. Her cheeks flushed in the most lovely way when she was worked up.
Without thinking he reached his hand out to brush her cheek and she froze, “You look lovely when you blush,” he murmured to her quietly.
This only caused her to flush further and study their hands, which were now intertwined. Hermione took a deep breath; it was time to discuss what she came here to talk about.
“Mal--Draco, I appreciate you telling me this, it gives me a whole new insight to who you are and what you’ve dealt with, but I still barely know you. I know your true nature, and I know that it has chosen me, but I’m not quite ready to forgive and forget. I need to know more about you, as a person, before I jump into anything more than friendship with you.” Hermione finished, biting her lip, expecting a tantrum.
Draco, however, was estactic. This meant that she was willing to give him a chance! He still had a chance; the thought made his face light up with a goofy grin. He took both of Hermione’s hands into his own now, and looked her in the eyes.
“Hermione, I understand,” he said gently, “I need to show you that I’ve changed, and prove to you that I’m not the same stupid, immature kid I was so many years ago. I’m willing to be patient.”
Relief flooded through Hermione and she smiled. They sat like that for a while, holding hands, both deep in thought. Eventually, Hermione stood up and stretched.
“I should probably head to bed, it’s getting late,” she murmured.
Draco nodded and stood as well. Hermione headed to her staircase, about to begin ascending, when Draco stopped her.
“Hermione, wait!”
She turned around and saw him loping towards her. He took her hand again, and kissed it softly, keeping his eyes on hers.
“Goodnight, Hermione,” Draco whispered softly with a small bow, before walking towards his own staircase and heading to his room.
“Goodnight, Draco,” Hermione whispered back to the empty common room, before turning back around and continuing the journey to her room.
A/N: I know this is a super long chapter full of so much emotion, and that is part of the reason it took so long. The more reviews I get, the faster this gets going. Enjoy!
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My Savior