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It Wouldn't Even Matter	By : Eloise Downbadde Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 2077 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters - i just referenced the books from a different perspective

Chapter List
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It Wouldn't Even Matter
Chapter 1: Our History

He flicked his wand and her book slammed shut. Her eyes shot up at him and her pretty lips scowled. She grabbed the cover and pulled it open again; stubborn girl. Another flick and it closes again. She huffed, her cheeks doing that pink tint that he hates to love.
"Are you mad?"
"Quite sane, actually. Simply fed up with waiting for you to finish." Draco sniffed in a manner he knew she disliked and moved toward her. "I've waited a full day. It's my turn."
He grabbed at the book only for her little muddy-bloody hands to grab it as well, furious and clearly not keen on sharing. She tugged, he tugged back, she made a little noise that would typically make him feel stupid in his chest but no. He needed to finish his essay too. She wasn't the only one who had homework before the weekend ended. So he gripped harder and pulled it, hard, from the edge of the table. Her whole body followed and knocked into his, her hands lost the grip and landed on his shoulders as he lifted it over his head.
"You're such a child, Granger." His other hand became traitorous and slipped against her waist, holding her balance but also just far enough away from him. He's always careful around her. He felt so warm staring down at her, the fury in her face exciting him. She really shouldn't look so sexy when she is angry. It wasn't playing fair.
"Right, I'm the child here. Give it b-" he tucked the book behind him and dug his fingers into her waist to move her, bracketing her against the table in the time it took her to exhale. He nonchalantly kicked her legs apart, setting his foot between hers and she veered back, stunned, as he leaned to put his nose to hers.

"It's. My. Turn." He dropped his voice low, the cold annoyance still coming through. Her eyes widened, suddenly panicked and he smirked. He twitched his fingers on her waist for a second and caught her briefly glancing down at his mouth as he pulled away. Victory. He pulled the book back around as he stepped away, waving it in her face as he walked four paces away and dropped it and himself at a different table. Pleased to have unsettled her as much as she did him on a regular basis.
It really isn't fair how she is simultaneously dull and beautiful. Predictable and insufferable but enthralling the minute her heart rate speeds up. Her chest heaves, eyes glittering, her lips part as she tries to steady her breathing and he always groans inwardly when her tongue darts out to wet her sweet, pouty lips. Maybe, he hopes, taking in tiny doses, small moments like this will build up a tolerance. He can't keep living if Granger has this type of effect on him. Not that it mattered, he would be dead soon anyways.
He could have guessed from the summer after first year, by the way his father sneered at her name, that she was going to be trouble. He definitely didn't speak about her nonstop. He absolutely didn't tell his mother and father about the girl who had learned the entire rubric before school even started, who was a mouthy, show-off friend of Potter and was absolutely rumpled, disheveled and as wild as her hair muggleborn witch. He didn't even know until school started again she was below him.
His father's letters about the chamber being open and the "bratty bookworm" being handled clued him into his error. Not only was he decidedly not supposed to be "fascinated" (his mother's word) with Granger, he was supposed to be better than her. So he doubled down on his class work and he even spent a fair time researching his father's pride in the bowels of Hogwarts. He quickly found, after that idiot kid was discovered petrified, the classification of the beast. Then he spent three full nights in the library trying to find some way to keep her safe.
He still would chop it up to his weak younger self not ready to see the hard truths in life. He had scribbled the title of the book he found onto a bit of parchment and shoved it into her pocket as they passed each other. Nothing changed. Draco had checked and she didn't even take the book off the shelf. So he ripped the page from the book and shoved it into her hands one evening as he passed her in the entry hall. After she had managed to NOT be killed, barely, he felt relief. Could you imagine Granger as another Moaning Myrtle? Merlin, the whole castle would need to be relocated to avoid her.
And how did she thank him? How did Swotty Granger repay his help in keeping her alive for another blasted year? She fawned over the damned hippogriff the next year! She cared more for the beast who tried to kill him than for his own well being! Well, fine, okay. She still rushed to his aid to get him medical attention but that was in protection of the idiotic half giant. And Oh, he almost had his way. He almost got the hippogriff punished for attacking him, he was pulsing with excitement! That's what you get when you mess with a Malfoy! You get beheaded!
Then, she struck him in the face, again, in defense of the deplorable beast! The absolute gall! The amount of disrespect was unfathomable! He remembers, after a quick visit and complaint to the nurse, (who swore Granger wasn't a violent person) he stormed the castle to find her. He strode about until he came upon her in the Gryffindor corridor. Her eyes red and head down, ambling along the hallway.
He had grabbed her shoulder, whirled her around to look at him and shoved her back into a pillar of the courtyard.
"Who the hells do you think you are?" He had growled. She trembled, terrified, looking around for help but the halls were empty. The virtuous fight now gone from her stance when she was alone. Everyone was in class, where they should be too. He was already taller than her and slammed his hand beside her head and leaned down when she didn't reply, his eyes narrowing.
"I said," he tried again but she cut him off.
"I don't care! You're still awful!" She grabbed at her neckline, probably something she wore that gave her comfort, and shoved at his shoulders. She looked uncomfortable. Good.
He pushed her back into the stone again, shoved her chest as she had tried to push away. "You should. I could ruin your life. I could leave you weak and truly worthless." His lips curled into a smirk as he locked into the fear and anger in her eyes. She was breathing hard and, with dismay, he realized he was too. They glared at one another, sharing breaths until she broke the stare to glance down at his mouth. He involuntarily licked his lips before the class bell sounded, breaking whatever this sudden trance was. He had jerked up and away and shoved his balled fists into his pockets and pivoted to leave.
"I'm not afraid of you," he heard her say, half shouted and he knew she only said it to have the last word. When he glanced over his shoulder she was storming away. He thought about telling her about last year, but it wouldn't matter. Nothing would change anyways.
He kept his mouth shut all summer. He didn't say a word about her or her friends and his father seemed too distracted to notice. His final jaunt out at the World Cup was supposed to be a treat for a successful summer training. He couldn't believe that the blasted Weasley clan managed to attend. They were too poor and too sad to afford such a luxury. Clearly, Potter had dug into his vault to shell out tickets for his measly red-headed family. Prat. And of course, she was there too. Why wouldn't she be?
Then the screaming started. He was on the very cusp of learning legilimency but it was enough to realize quickly the direction the evening was taking. His father's friends and their nasty words and ugly intentions for the young witches and muggles they captured sent him bolting. Sodding Potter. Did he enjoy putting her in danger? Did he want her to be killed? His lungs burned as he ran toward the tent grounds. If she wasn't there, one of the red-head mutts would be and maybe they would get her out of here.
His plan stuttered, as did his legs, as he rounded the lines of tents and campers and nearly ran over a few of his housemates. Damn, time to change plans. He drawled, trying to hide how out of breath he was, as he convinced the lads to continue to search for the Weasley tent, in the spirit of scouting out the area for more muggles.
They were there. He found them, his legs moving faster than the casual stroll he had been aiming for. He called out to Potter, perhaps he would listen. Weasley would argue and Granger, the fool, would stick out her chin and try to prove herself against these adults. He slid in a snark about her knickers (that he absolutely never in his entire life thought about) and her bushy head hoping the embarrassment would phase her enough to take his warning seriously.
Draco was so relieved to see she was boarding the Hogwarts Express. He had no way of knowing if she was captured, despite his probing questions to his father and Crabbe and Goyle about their fathers. Only for the ruddy tournament to single her out as the Germanic Brutes Beau. Once again, her life was in danger, after the effort he went through to save her that summer. It didn't bother him Potter was part of the dog and pony show. It didn't even bother him that they stuffed her under the lake and left her to drown if the mountain of a man didn't save her. No. None of that was as dangerous as the ruddy ball.
Everyone loves a dress party. And Granger really stepped it up, clearly going through some rubbish love triangle with Weasley and Krum. His date, Pansy, went the extra mile to look ravishing and yet her nasal whine when he barely complimented or looked at her was so aggravating he cracked a goblet in his hands. She fussed over him, patting his palm dry of the mess but he continued to glare at Granger. In the strong man's arms, spinning around the ballroom floor. She was practically floating and the blood rushing into his ears was foreign to him. He had grabbed Pansy and pulled her out for the next song, orbiting closer to the thorn in his side, his eyes locked on his date's chin to keep from staring.
She made a small comment about not focusing so hard on his steps because she could see his jaw tightening. He didn't care, instead he spun them and let Pansy slip from his grip and crash into Granger's date. A small flutter of victory in his chest when the brunette stammered an apology to Pansy with a smile that vanished when she met his eyes. Silly witch, she thought she was being clumsy but he had practically thrown their dates together. And she finally looked at him.

Pansy dragged him off the floor and scowled at him some more, snipping and snarking at what a terrible dancer he is but he didn't care. Now that Granger had seen him, it's like the rhythm she had dissipated. She stumbles and falters, not only with dancing but with walking. She can't even take a bite of the measly food provided without her eyes searching the room for him. It feels so good to know she is rattled because of him.
She didn't notice. He doubted she ever would notice, that now, every male she once probably considered a friend has seen her like this. They've all seen how delicate, how feminine, how BEAUTIFUL she can be. How desirable she must be to have a man like Krum bowing to her, looking at her like a prize jewel. No one would look at her the same. He realizes this makes things more dangerous for her. She's such a fool with the men she keeps company with. As becomes evident when he passes her in the entry hall sobbing. He had vaguely tracked her and Weasley arguing and with Pansy long gone, abandoning him when he refused to speak to her, he weighed his options. The ball still in full swing, he slipped out to head back to his rooms when she was there, huddled on the stone steps.
He paused for a moment, unsure if he could get past her without notice or if he would be better off going back into the great hall. She buried her face into her hands and an awful sob echoed louder than he's sure she wanted and the few students nearby shot her glances. Otherwise she was invisible, clearly an enemy because she caught a famous man's eye. He groaned inwardly as he fished out his embroidered handkerchief and stalked over to her. He dropped down on the balls of his feet in front of her and held it out.
"It'll be alright, Granger. Most blokes are complete gits." He remembers saying as her watery eyes looked at him. "Weasley the biggest one of all of us." Her hands trembled as she took it from his fingers, letting out a choked laugh. She wiped her face and looked like she would speak to him but her date pushed past Draco. He stumbled to his feet and scowled as Krum came to her rescue, butchering her name as he consoled her and tried to get her cleaned up. He wanted her to come back to the party. Draco scoffed, "Case and Point." and met her eyes for a split second before striding off to his dorms. Complete waste of a night. He could tell her then. He could go back and let it all out, everything he's done to keep her safe. But still, it wouldn't matter. Nothing would change.
But the next year changed the game between them. He was set on proving to her what absolute brutes her boyfriends were, how dangerous it is to be associated with them. With only light taunting, "Weasley is our King", and a perfectly placed snark, the idiots would fly into rages. They would lunge at him and he took pleasure when she defended him. Even if it was under the guise of not being worth it.
Umbridge regularly torturing Potter and other gods-awful Gryffindor's was fine but when she turned her dark punishment to Granger, he wouldn't let sleeping dogs lie. He wrote to his mother, he spread ghastly gossip to the ministry, he even tried to pull a few deadly pranks on the woman but nothing seemed to reach her the way he wanted it too. He decided the best mode of attack was to be under the vile woman's wing. Easier to stab her in the heart if she's keeping you close.
He remembers his hands on the back of her neck after crashing their secret little club. He remembers the warm feeling of her skin and how she squirmed as he shoved her in whatever direction he wanted. He stuffed down how good it felt to have so much control over her with one hand, he let his thumb brush the side of her throat a few times and noted the goosebumps rise; a small action with a big reaction. She should know. He should tell her, it's all for her own good.
If she would just keep her head down. If she could stop being such a nuisance, she would be safe. But that wasn't Granger. He docked points from her house, her eyes glazed with fury as she realized he was part of the Inquisitorial Squad. A professional rat. He called her a mudblood again, maybe she would stay in line if she knew how serious things were, now. But it stung, that time, when she told Weasley he wasn't worth it.
When he finds out about their romp at the ministry, about being attacked by his fathers friends (grown wizards trying to kill literal children. Again.) he is furious. She could have died. She almost died! After all the work he took to keep her safe. After cozying up to the death eaters and scum like Umbridge and yet she still went galivanting off to save the world. Her little tribe of classmates in their stupid club, thinking they were invincible. It was clear he needed to find a way to keep her safe from his father's side of the war.
He remembers storming into the hospital at an ungodly hour when they returned. He clenched his fist, standing over her bed, her body wrapped in bandages and her face twisted in pain, even in her sleep. He felt his jaw tick, trying to contain his fury in the quiet infirmary. He didn't want to wake anyone and he especially didn't want anyone to know he was there. He cast a quick charm to be sure no one noticed him and sat on the bed next to her. After hesitating a dozen times, he took her hand in his, confident she wouldn't wake. Her furrowed brow relaxed for a moment as he ran his thumb along her knuckles and he felt his heart leap in his throat. What is happening in his stomach?
Her eyes peaked open slightly. No noise coming from her mouth but clear confusion and fear starting to stoke behind her eyes. He hushed her, reaching his hand to her nest of hair and smoothing the wild mess down. He said her name softly and told her to go back to sleep. He told her she was safe and her eyes closed again but he couldn't stop his words, his anger from pouring out in a quiet hush. "You damn fool. You are going to get yourself killed. Don't you dare do something so stupid again. Don't you dare..." His throat caught and he brought her hand to his face and found he was pressing his lips to her fingers, like some fucked up royal meeting. Pushing her hand against his cheek, her fingers were cold and he wanted to warm them. The piece of his brain that saw logically what was happening, screamed at him. This isn't the time nor the place. This isn't your problem and more importantly: she isn't yours.
So he spent that summer busy. Being tortured in various ways in the name of skill and devotion. He took the mark, he swore allegiance and he took on an impossible task. There was no hope of surviving this year and he swore to himself, he would break this curse before he died. He would continue small moments of exposure until he didn't care anymore. He knew he would never change her. No one would. You can't make anyone do anything. You can't make an idiot Gryffindor less of an idiot, but you can pull whatever strings are needed to keep them safe from your side. You can take in all power possible, even if the motives are to keep her alive. If her side, if her Potter won, she would live. Damaged, maybe, but she still would live. If they lost, his position might offer her some solace, if he managed to survive this year, of course. It was the only reason he was actually trying to complete his assassination.
He could tell her then, tell her everything. Things he hadn't even spoke aloud to himself. It still wouldn't matter. Nothing would ever change. He also was hopeful that the more he knew about her, the less the pull would be; the darkness and negative traits overshadowing his 'fascination' to such a normal girl.
His vision came back to him, trying to focus on the pages in front of him. He scribbled out notes to help complete his essay, despite not fully caring. He only worked on his assignments to spend time in the library with her. She was always here, something he was thankful for. The only time he wasn't overthinking about his mission was when she was right there. He could feel her glare at him as she gathered her things to leave and tried to stuff down his sudden desire to follow after her. There were moments where he wanted to tell her everything, unload his burdens, to ask her for help. She was starting to look at him the way Dumbledore did and he hated it. She knew nothing of what he was going through, he didn't deserve for her to look at him that way.
He glared back over his shoulder at her, looping the first letter to start his conclusion on his essay. He tensed when he heard Weasley greet her and her voice was suddenly lilted and light. He could hear her smile as they spoke quietly. They walked past him, Weasley's arm slung around her shoulders and he fought the urge to stick his foot out and trip him. His throat tightened when he noticed her boyfriend's hand slide down her side and rested against her hip, pulling her closer and she leaned into him. Of course they were together. He'd watched them dance around each other all 5 years. He ignores the burning in his chest. He has a date with a cabinet tonight.
It shouldn't matter. In fact it doesn't matter but it does. He spends the evening seething, picturing the way her head tilted into Weasley and her body relaxed completely under his touch. He was right in front of the most important task of his life, literally life or death and all he could think about was her. He wasn't sure if he was more angry with himself or with her for causing him this sort of grief.
Pansy shot him a glare at lunch the next day. Probably because he didn't eat anything and refused to talk to anybody about what was bothering him. Every bone in his body was on high alert, all he wanted was to hide in The Room and work until he figured this blasted cabinet out. He begrudgingly realized he didn't have the knowledge that he needed in his head and resolved to visit the library, not a problem, if he could avoid Granger. There's no way she wouldn't tattle to Potter or Dumbledore if she caught wind of him sneaking about in secret rooms.
He pulled out a permission slip for the restricted section when he came to Pince's desk, one of dozens Snape had pre-made for him. The Head of House had realized Draco was avoiding him like he owed him money and wanted to make sure he had every advantage as he needed anyways.
Shoving his fists into his pockets and pulling out the small rectangle, he placed it on the desk closest to the fireplace and tapped his wand on it. Instantly, it enlarges back to its regular satchel size. Draco Malfoy wouldn't dare wear a bag over his shoulder around school. It would throw off his trademark stride. He didn't even bring books to classes, sharing with one of his mates, only carrying his quill, parchment and inkpot. He pulled those out now and a small leather bound notebook and began to scan through the shelves. He thought of Granger, unwillingly, and her heavy bag thrown over her shoulder. Her brilliant mind obviously forgetting about feather-lite charms. And how she would wince and stretch her shoulder in pain when she dropped it on her desk at class.
He found a book that looked promising, Creating Portkeys and Other Teleportation's of the late 18th Century, and slid the metal bar keeping it in place to the side. Once he moved away from the bookshelf, on his way back to his desk, it flashed for a moment and then became invisible and he sighed, frustrated. He could feel the weight of the book disappear and it reappeared on the shelf. That's just great. He snatched his notebook, quill and ink and sat on the floor. Aside from the obvious obstacle of portkeys being licensed through the ministry, teleportation was a little more lax. It was actually expected for wealthy families long before the floo network was fully connected through the magical world. Granted apparition was the more commonly known method, there were ways to move large objects and larger groups without damaging anyone or anything.
Draco scribbled down whatever notes he felt were relevant, keeping the book propped against the shelf where the spelled bookcase kept it from disappearing again. The next book he found was chained in place and rattled at him when he turned the page. He had to put his arm over one side to read the words clearly. Pesky thing. The last book he had to move to the lectern and restrain with the metal square in place for just such a thing. It snaps shut at random and tries to crush fingers with it. Entirely possible since the binding was made of stone. He really disliked the Restricted Section, it was always some hassle in some way.
He packed up and shrank everything back down, pocketing all but his booklet. He was reviewing his notes when he left the gates, turning to lock it back up. Glancing around the library to make sure no one was there, and especially not a swotty Gryffindor. He closed the notebook and dropped it into his robe pocket. He strode up and dropped the key on Pince's desk, thanking her curtly.
For a moment, he wondered where Granger could be. He bet she would have figured out this damned cabinet by now. He let himself snort in annoyance that she wouldn't be in this type of situation in the first place. As he rounded the corner leading down to the moving stairwell, he froze but only for a moment.
It's like she is summoned when he thinks of her but this is not the way he wanted her to appear. Granger, books squeezed high against her chest and backed into the wall, was glaring fiercely at Adrian Pucey. The older Slytherin had her by the shoulder to keep her from leaving, despite her clear struggle. Draco had no idea what Pucey was playing at and he wasn't going to sit and watch as he did anything to his Granger.

**
I've always wanted a fic to pick apart every little D/H moments through the years so I finally decided to do it myself. Did ya'll know there's a site that gives you all the events in calendar form for each year? Yeah that's pretty dope.
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It Wouldn't Even Matter