Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters used in this fanfiction. J. is the sole owner of all.
A/N: Never written anything for this paring before, so I hope it turns out alright. I don't even like Dramione much, but this has been plaguing me for weeks. Please enjoy, and don't forget to review :)
It was never something he meant to do, he kept telling himself. Never something he would've done in his right mind, but, of course, he hadn't been in his right mind, had he? It was something he could get killed for... Something his family could get killed for...
Draco Malfoy never meant to fall in love with Hermione Granger.
He'd been drinking. Again. He knew who to blame, that daft old lady who'd kept sherry bottles in the room of requirement. He'd thought they were bottles of pumpkin juice at first, and soon realised his mistake. It wasn't one he regretted, however, as he continued to drink the stuff.
He taught himself the charm to transfigure water into rum, and, for a time frame of about two months, was either drunk or hungover for the whole time.
He was, of course, drunk when he fell in love with Hermione.
It was in Potions on a friday. He knew that, because the next day was Saturday, a month before it happened.
He couldn't stop staring at her hair, hair that had become significantly less bushy. He wanted to run his hands through it so badly. His mind wandered into a daydream... Her hair felt soft under his hand, he could almost feel it...
"Can I help you?" she asked in an irritated tone. Draco snapped out his daze.
"Help me? Why would I want help from you, you..." he tried to say it, honestly. But the word wouldn't come. Hermione glared at him, before turning to correct something Weasley had done wrong.
Hermione was mentally reeling. He hadn't insulted her? My, this was progress indeed. Maybe there was hope that he would come around.
Or maybe pigs would fly.
She knew that Draco Malfoy, pureblood Draco Malfoy, could never like her, Hermione Granger, mudblood Hermione Granger.
But how she wished...