Do You Remember?

Disclaimer: Not mine, some ideas, but characters belong to Jo, there will be things popping up that aren't mine either- like the poem.. it's really song lyrics...Belongs to The Cat Empire.

A.N. I'm still going to finish my other stories but I've been doing other things, and now I just needed to take a break from studying for exams (three more to go) so I wrote down the idea that popped into my head while listening to some music- originally it was going to be really sad.. but then a happy song came on and it will be... we'll see... Enjoy :D


She was sitting under the large oak tree, mere meters from the softly rippling waves on the Black Lake, her books spread around her as she studied for her upcoming NEWTs. In year since the defeat of the Dark Lord, she has slowed down a little and decided to enjoy her last year at Hogwarts as much as she can.

Suddenly the bright sunlight reflecting on the page is blocked by someone's shadow. She looks up into the face of Draco Malfoy. He smiles at her, briefly, before sitting down in front of her. She is surprised but doesn't let on. Despite the fact that he did not take any part in the Final Battle, he was not a person who came to sit with her on daily basis.

She looks at him expectantly, waiting for him to speak. His intense gaze makes her feel self-conscious. When he does not speak she raises her eyebrow and speaks:

"Is there anything you need?" She avoids using his name, to prevent seeming too friendly, and yet, since everything has changed she feels it inappropriate to call him Malfoy.

"No." He says pleasantly, peering at her from under his long eyelashes.

Her eyebrows pinch together in a frown as she looks away from him and back to her books. She tries to continue studying, but it is hard with a boy... well, a man (and good-looking, too) studying her face in the way he is. It is intimidating and embarrassing. Hermione isn't used to attention from the male population, unless, of course, they need to copy notes or something along those lines...

All of sudden, the book is impossible to concentrate on. Every now and then, her gaze flicks up to see his warm grey eyes watching her. It is unnerving. She lets out a sigh and then slams her book closed. Stacking the tomes into her bag she stands to leave. He is still watching her.

With one last look at him she picks up her bag and turns to leave. Suddenly she feels his strong hand grip her own.

"Wait. Don't go." He looks at her pleadingly. Her head is spinning. Why? This wasn't the Malfoy she knew. Not even the new one that he's been since the end of the war- sure, he didn't call anyone names nor did he start fights... But she hasn't seen him smile. In fact, she hardly sees him around anymore. He is quiet and withdrawn... And suddenly he is harassing her, of all people.

"What do you want?" She smoothes out her expression and works to keep her voice even, but his close proximity to her is making her dizzy.

"I..." For once he seems lost for words. He seems uncertain, and so unlike his old self.

Hermione turns to face him fully and lowers her heavy book bag while she wait for an answer. His hand is still holding hers.

She doesn't realize that while they stand, heavy grey clouds come and cover the sun. She does notice as she stares into his eyes how similar they looked, his eyes the same steely colour, but while the clouds are holding water that was about to fall, his orbs were holding something much deeper, a secret. Something that was so long left unsaid.

She feels completely lost in the depth of his eyes, so much that she has almost forgotten about... everything. She realizes that he is closer than he was a second ago, and he seems to be getting closer every second.

He is looking down at her lips. Then his eyes flutter closed, his long eyelashes making a half moon, brushing against his cheekbones. His head tilts slightly to the left and then he is so close that her eyes cannot focus anymore.

And his lips touch hers.

Hermione's eyes close as the sensation sent butterflies into her stomach. His lips touch hers again. None of her questions matter anymore. It feels like she has all the answers then, in that moment, and yet she does not need them. She feel as if she could die in this moment, and be happy.

Well. not happy... The kiss makes her happy, but sad at the same time... She feels like dying. She sees her life flash before her, but it is too fast to see anything properly and still she instinctively knows that her past and her present and her future are shown to her.

And in that moment, her future shifts.

Because never before would Hermione Granger even dare to think she would ever fancy Draco Malfoy. Ever.


From that day on, Hermione always studies under that very same oak, and he always comes and watches. He always kisses her. Her knees become weak every time and butterflies always rage inside her stomach.

They aren't dating. There is no scribbled 'Mrs.Draco Malfoy' in her diary. They do not speak when they meet in a corridor or in classes. They acknowledge each other with a nod or a small smile, but nothing more.

They are not an item and they do not want to be. That is what they thought.


It changes subtly. One day Hermione puts her book aside and leans back against the thick trunk of her tree and watches him.

He stares right back. She is used to his unwavering gaze and she returns it. His eyes always captivate. She loves them. They tell her more than words ever could. A long-forgotten line she once read somewhere swims into her mind as she stares into his stormy grey orbs.

Eyes are the mirrors to the soul.

She believes that. Who wouldn't if they saw him? He's like a Greek god. His handsome face is illuminated by the summery sunlight, his golden hair shining while his silver eyes smolder.

Her eyes trace over his pale features: the hard square of his jaw, the softer curve of his full lips, the sharp angle of his cheekbones. To her he is perfect. His white shirt is visible under his unbuttoned school robes- it was much too hot. His fingers reached up and undid the top three buttons of his shirt. She realizes that he looks so good it is almost indecent; she is suddenly grateful for the long quidditch workouts that gave him a toned body to go with his angelic face. Not that she'd ever seen his body... But his shirt always hinted the muscle hidden underneath it.

When she thinks about his body a light flush rises up on her neck and cheeks. She bites down on her bottom lip... and he notices.

If he were his old self, he would surely smirk at her, but being that he is not, he smiles at her and ducks his head. She realizes that today he seems to be closer than usual- maybe she simply did not notice before, being immersed in her studies.

Hermione knows that if she reaches out, she can touch him. And feeling daring this particular day, she does. Her arm extends and her fingers tentatively touch the side of his face. His eyes close and he leans into her touch.

She can't help but marvel at the feel of his perfect skin against her fingertips. Soon, her mind wanders off and her feather-light touch stops. His eyes snap open, searching hers. His hand reaches up to hold hers in place, and then he moves it and kisses the palm of her hand.

His other hand travels up towards her face and he traces her creamy complexion before pulling her closer. She can feel heat radiating of him. It feels better than anything she has ever felt before. The thought of him alone, so close, arouses her. He moves her hand from his face to behind his neck and then suddenly his hand is in the small of her back, pulling her even closer, and she can feel the sculpted muscles of his chest against her. Her excitement increases and her nipples harden against him.

This is different. While he is always gentle, he was never like...this.

When his lips press against hers in a desperate and demanding way, her train of thought stops. Her lips move in answer to him and when his tongue traces her bottom lip, begging entrance, she obliges. Before long their tongues battle for dominance, the passion surprising them both. She responds to him in ways that she hadn't thought possible, and all the while he never expects her to truly want him as she does.

When they break away, gasping for air, their eyes meet for a moment- his steely orbs darkened by desire while her wide, chocolate, doe-like eyes are bright with some unidentifiable emotion.

It is never the same after that. There are still sweet, soft kisses goodbye, but they are always preceded by passionate kisses, with her pressing against him, both of their eyes showing desire.

He will lie on the grass with his head in her lap while and she will stroke his golden locks absent-mindedly out of his eyes. Of course, he can never keep his eyes off her and her other hand will always be intertwined with his.

She only brings her books out of habit. She no longer looks at them when he is around. There are more interesting things to be studied. More important things.

Sometimes he will recite poems to her. She has never heard them before. It is weeks before she realizes that he writes them. They aren't happy, and she feels that his past must reflect in them. But whenever he speaks, she clearly hears hope. Sometimes she feels as if he is speaking to her, as if he can see through her soul. His poems make her think about life.

Do you ever look around

turn your ear to the ground

show your face to the sky

on a night when the skies echo sounds

from inside of your mind

on the stage that you shone

where the sun did become you

and move with your thoughts

through the sighs and the scenes

of the worlds you have seen

and the sights that have been

your reflection in shadows and dreams?

She is happy when she is with him, but not the sort of happy that a child feels when they are on the swing- although the freedom she feels with him is similar. She feels like she can fly when she is with him. He becomes the answer to her questions and the reason why she is. He is like her very own personal sun. Yet she will not think to herself that she loves him. It isn't like that.

But anyone else, anyone who has a little more perspective than they do, an unbiased opinion of him or her will see it clearly. But she will not admit it to herself. She is in denial.

He is not. When he found her that very first day, when he sat in front of her under this very tree... He did it because he knew he loved her. He came to tell her, he came to watch her, maybe for the last time... Because then it felt like the end... He knew that when school finishes, he would likely never see her again. And although he was no Gryffindor, he knew that he could not live with himself if she disappeared from his world not knowing how he felt. Although he never actually said it, he knew she knew. Deep inside her, she knew.

He thought that he would just stroll up to her and tell her how he feels, kiss her and leave. But it wasn't so easy, and it didn't go quite as he planned it. Instead, he sat and marveled at her beauty and then when he realized he had almost missed his chance, he kissed her.

He supposes it did not go so badly... He thought that he could leave after and not come back. To preserve his future how it was meant to be. But he feels it too. When he kisses her... He feels his future shift. He knows it will not go as it had been set out for him. But how is it going to be?


A.N. Review my loverly people! If you do there will be chapters to come. If you don't this will be a simple one-shot. A story abandoned. :P Oh and now there's only one exam to go :D