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draconifors

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                    Hermione arranged the Potions properly in order and made new labels for all the healing potions she had brewed all day. Draco watched her silently, his eyes following her every move, admiring her from afar. He had a book in his hands, the book Hermione had found yesterday. He didn't understand any word it said, and they were all confusing. Hermione was convinced that there was something in the book that could help them. There was a muggle book he had found in his hands. Draco didn't want to read the confusing book but it was the only distraction he had or his mind automatically thought about a certain brunette.

He stood up, stretching his neck and brushing off the dust as he tucked the sleeve of his white shirt to his elbow. Walking over to the table, he grabbed himself a cup of cold water. He liked everything cold. Maybe, because he had grown up surrounded by coldness. And, maybe because it matched the temperature of his heart.

And, Hermione seemed like the warmest of places.

Draco glanced over to the table, his vision falling upon a familiar potion. It didn't take him more than three seconds to figure out what it was, because the smell had reached his nose and he was already backing away from the dangerous love potion — Amortentia. "Why do you have Amortentia with you?" Draco asked. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Hermione spun around, taking a moment to process the question in her head before her eyes fell upon the small phial on the table. "Oh." She narrowed her eyes. "Well, I was in a hurry when I was packing all the Potions. I guess I must have packed it along as well." She shrugged, before looking at Draco whose eyes were staring at the potion.

He smelt it, the faint smell of old books, inks, and warm cosy summer days. It's funny how he had never actually experienced or had the thought to enjoy a summer day. He had never taken a day off, a relaxing day, a lazy day. Every day was a busy day for him. His eyes shifted to the brunette looking at him.

"What do you smell?" Hermione asked, regretting it immediately at the way Draco tensed. Mentally, she scolded herself for not thinking before asking questions.

Draco didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to tell the truth either. "Why do you want to know?" He smirked, knowing it would make her blush and successfully, it did. Hermione rolled her eyes, trying to seem like she wasn't affected by it.

"I-I was just asking." She stood up, grabbing the potion away from the table.

Draco's smirk only widened at the stutter and he rested his elbows on the edge of the chair, looking extremely smug. "If you want to know what I smelt, you have to tell me what you smelt too." He offered a deal and Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, not wanting to say yes or no. Draco continued anyway, "I smelt old books, inks, and the smell of summer days."

Hermione gave him a pointed look. "Your turn." Draco teased, his smirk only infuriating Hermione further. Hermione looked down at the potion in her hands, it was closed so the effect wasn't strong but she could smell a faint trace of it.

Draco watched her carefully, wanting to see what she smelt. Suddenly, her eyes widened, as if surprised before they fell on him. She looked shocked, and her lips were parted, as she stared at him. Draco stiffened, wanting desperately to know what she smelt. "What do you smell?" He asked, and Hermione immediately blinked profusely before looking away. Her cheeks were tainted with a faint tinge of pink.

Suddenly, it wasn't a game anymore. The atmosphere had shifted and there was tension, palpable tension between them.

"Pine trees, fresh rain, snow and something else." Hermione frowned.

"Something else?" Draco asked.

"Yes." Hermione glared at Draco. "Something else. I have never smelt that before."

Draco bit his lips, wanting to change the conversation. Hermione bent down, placing the love potion inside the box. "What's your favourite spell?" Draco broke the silence again. And, Hermione was thankful for it because the tension seemed to go away immediately. She placed the box away, closing it safely before grabbing a cup of water for herself.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Hermione said, the mere spell, drifting her mind to a certain memory in the past with a red-haired boy. She smiled sadly at the thought. "It's the first spell I learned."

Draco nodded.

"What's yours?" Hermione asked, looking curiously at Draco.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Draconifors." His answer was immediate and a smug look adorned his features.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What's with you and dragons?" Draco shrugged at the answer and Hermione sighed, taking a seat on the chair opposite to him. The table separated them. Draco leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he placed his chin on his palm.

"The spell you hate the most?" Draco asked, sending a curious glance towards her.

"Obliviate." The answer was immediate and Draco narrowed his eyes at her. Hermione turned away and looked at her fiddling fingers as a memory popped up in her mind. Her heart sank.

"Why?" Draco asked, wanting to know the reason.

Hermione looked up at him. "If you ask me, it should be one of the unforgivables. Memories are precious. They are priceless. They can't be replaced. And, taking someone's memories away is a huge sin. Imagine having to spend your life, knowing that something had happened in the past, and you don't even remember it. You can take away a person's wealth, happiness, fame, health or even dare I say it — life." Hermione paused. "But, taking a person's precious memory. How can you live with that?" Her voice cracked at the end.

"You used obliviate on someone." Draco declared. His tone was firm and strong, like a sentence and not like a doubtful question. Because he had figured it out.

The sudden accusation made Hermione stiffen and she turned around to meet his grey eyes. His eyes were like smoke: grey and full of heart, the intensity made her shiver inside, making her heartbeat speed up. He was studying her, trying to see what she was thinking. Even though he was skilled at legilimens too, he didn't want to use it on her. He wanted to hear it.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Draco with a newfound admiration. Draco Malfoy is clever. Not the kind of bookworm smarty type of cleverness — but the sharp intelligence, like a Detective. He had creativity, not knowledge. There was true intelligence in him. He had tact and strategy, he knew how to play a game well. He could ask you to go to hell, and you would look forward to the trip with the way he says it. He had that kind of rare ability, the ability to bring the word to your feet with the power of wit.

"Why would you say that?" Hermione asked, her words breathless.

Draco raised his eyebrow. "Because I noticed, the pictures in your home. I noticed that you were not in them. I think I know who you used the spell on. And, I think I can understand why."

Hermione's hormones were raging at the smart man standing in front of her. Her breath hitched at the memory of her parents and she blinked away the tears, her eyes never tearing away from the Slytherin standing in front of her. It was the most painful thing she had to do, in her entire existence of nineteen years. Now, that the secret was out, she might as well just agree to it than deny it.

"It was the only way I could protect them." She said and for a second, that sentence seemed to match his situation. From the look of it, Draco always wanted to protect his parents, from evil, but it was too dark and too controlling that he had no choice. And, even when he had fallen into the dark rabbit hole, and tainted himself with darkness, he still tried to protect his family — more his Mother. He made all the wrong choices for the right reasons because it was the only way he could protect them.

"What about you?" Hermione asked, her voice seemed soft because just thinking of painful memories dragged all the energy inside of her away.

Draco looked up, his smirk slowly dropping and his eyes darkened. The steel grey turned into a dark metal grey, it was fierce. They were the grey of the last ashes on the fire, tossed upon the breeze. Those eyes glanced my way once and ensnared me at that moment in a net of intrigue.

"Cruciatus."

The meaning behind it was simple. Because he had seen too much pain. In that particular moment, Hermione discovered something, not a breakthrough or earth-shattering discovery, but it was of the same kind. He was darkness and he was cold, and due to that, it had corrupted his mind, damaged his soul and broken his heart. And, that's why he was so closed off. And, that's why he didn't let people in. The heartless façade he throws on himself is because he once cared too much, and he was forced to not care at all. Because staying from people means protection for your heart.

"The killing curse as well," Draco added softly and Hermione's eyes narrowed at him, trying to study him. And, in that same moment, as she gazed at him with a knowing look, deep down, she knew that he had used the killing curse before.

He was bad. He had done awful, terrible things in the past. He was the kind of darkness Hermione stays away from. But, Hermione wasn't afraid of the dark anymore.

She wanted to see the light the darkness held.