Things Don't Always Turn Out That Way

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Things Don't Always Turn Out That Way

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Well he can't sleep at night

And he can't do what's right

It was all because she came into his life

A young man sat in solace, book in hand. Occasionally, he would run his delicate, yet masculine hand through his blonde hair, a sign of his frustration. He attempted to reread the passage once again, but found he could not concentrate. Steel eyes flashing, Draco Malfoy chucked the bothersome Arithmancy book across the Slytherin common room, almost hitting a frightened first year.

Draco rose from his chair, and stormed out the portrait door. He was in dire need of fresh air, he decided.

That will clear my head up.

Flinging the entrance doors of Hogwarts open, he dashed outside into the crisp winter air, for spring had not yet revealed her presence. Draco plopped down on the snow, and gazed up into the sky. It was blue.

Her favorite color, he thought, sighing. Draco had been in an emotional rut for quite some time now. It had been six days. Six days since she said goodbye.

He was having a rather difficult time grasping the concept, remaining in a state of shock. His fellow Slytherins had noticed the drastic change in his mood, fleeing in fear of their lives whenever he was in the area. No one dared approach him, for he was too unpredictable in this condition.

I used to be so content, and then I went and messed that up he thought wryly.

Gathering a handful of snow, he molded the ice into a ball, launching the projectile at a nearby tree. It struck the tree with such force the snow atop the branches fell on Draco. Figures, he thought, brushing off the snow. Everything falls apart because of me. I caused the snow to fall from its majestic place. She left because of me.

Hermione Granger was the she he was referring to. Her silky chestnut locks, which he missed running his fingers through, her cinnamon eyes, which he loved watching light up when she was happy.

Draco remembered how it all ended. Not all at once, but slowly their relationship fell apart. Bit by bit, it crumbled into pieces, starting with that dreadful party. His father had insisted that he attend the annual holiday gathering at the Malfoy Manor. Many owls went between the two, his father's demands and Draco's refusals.

Finally, the long-standing debate became tiresome, and ended with a quick letter from Draco's mother. She played her cards right, convincing him to come for the "small get-together."

Of course, he would not go alone. He decided to extend an invitation to his sweet Hermione, so he would have a date. She agreed, only after he promised not to leave her side for the entire evening.

They arrived together at the Manor via Floo Network, courtesy of the Three Broomsticks' fireplace. Draco and Hermione had received permission from Dumbledore to attend the party, and the nearest place of transportation was in Hogsmeade.

Stepping into the parlor, they brushed the soot from their robes. Draco took Hermione's hand in his, complimented her on how beautiful she looked in blue, and strode into the ballroom.

Narcissa, Draco's mother, immediately approached them. After introductions, she struck up idle chat with Hermione, while shooting inquisitive looks at Draco. For the most part, he ignored them, squeezing Hermione's hand in reassurance.

Then Lucius came. Following closely behind, was his band of Death Eaters. Draco remained unfazed; Hermione, however, was a different story.

Outward, there was no change in her composure. Draco, however, knew better. He could see the fear in her eyes. Squeezing her hand, he leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"It will be alright, don't worry."

Hermione gulped, and nodded. Setting her face in grim determination, she locked her gaze on Lucius.

"Hello, son. Glad to see you could join us this fine evening."

Draco met his father's icy glare, and pulled Hermione a little closer. He could hear her sharp intake of breath.

"Good evening father," he spat.

"Care to join the men for a little politics?" Lucius drew his robes around himself, looking dignified. Draco knew he could not decline, so he began to lead Hermione to the parlor, where the others were waiting.

"You cannot expect to bring that with you," Lucius snarled, eyes flashing.

Draco gave him a look to match. "Fine," he muttered through gritted teeth, and completely detached himself from Hermione. The last thing he saw was her petrified face as he followed Lucius.

Later that evening, he found her sitting curled up at the bottom of a staircase. She looked so small and vulnerable, like a child. He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, but she shrunk away.

"What's wrong, Mione?" he asked, voice laced with concern. Her big cinnamon eyes looked up at him, fear displayed to the world.

"Mione?" he inquired again, taking a step forward. Hermione began to tremble. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

"What did they do?" he growled, perhaps a little too harshly. Hermione whimpered, and shrunk back further.

He grabbed her by the arm and led her out onto the patio, setting her down on a stone bench.

"Look, I don't understand what's wrong with you, but I want to leave. We're going back to Hogwarts now," Draco announced. Hermione offered no argument, so he guided her back to the fireplace.

Throwing a hand full of Floo powder in, he shouted "Hogwarts!" He felt the familiar rush of motion, like free falling from his broom in midair, twisting and turning the entire way down, then fell out of the fireplace at the Three Broomsticks.

They walked back to the castle in silence. He left Hermione at the Gryffindor's common room entrance. That was the last he'd seen of her. Until that night, he thought.

It's a deep obsession, taking up his time

That's all that plagued his thoughts now. That fateful night she told him goodbye. He still didn't understand why she was upset with him.

Sure, he understood that he had left her, but didn't she understand he could not have taken her with him? Lucius would not have stood for it, and probably killed her on the spot for Draco's insolence.

He let out a sigh.

I don't think I can stand this anymore, he thought. A cold winter breeze began to blow, and Draco pulled his robes closer. He stood up, and began to make his way back to the entrance.

Draco dragged himself through the hallways, gaze on the floor. Then he heard it.

"Ronald Weasley! I can't believe you said that!" rang out an angelic voice through the corridor.

Is it... he thought, turning towards the voice.

There stood Hermione Granger, beautiful as always, flanked by Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. They were involved in a heated discussion. Draco knew this because Hermione's cheeks were a bit flushed; they got like that when she was arguing.

Suddenly she came to a halt. Ron and Harry stopped immediately, practically knocking her over.

"Geez, Herm! Why you'd do that for?" inquired the red head. He picked up his books, which had fallen to the floor in the accident.

Silence.

"Herm? What's wrong?" Harry asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She continued to stare at him.

Both Harry and Ron followed her gaze, resting on a certain Slytherin. Steam began to billow out of the red head's ears.

"You!" he spat venomously, taking a protective step in front of her, Harry following suit.

Just what I need, Draco thought sarcastically, a tiff with Wonder Boy and Weasel. Holding his head up high, he looked both boys squarely in the eyes.

"I have nothing to discuss with you, Weasley and Potter. If you don't mind, I'll be on my way."

He strutted past, taking a departing glance at Hermione.

She's all that he wants, she's all that he needs

She's everything he just won't believe

That was a close one, he thought, continuing on his way. He finally approached his destination.

"Fiddlesticks and Houcum," he told the statue, and went through the passage it revealed.

"Peace and quiet, at last," he muttered, plopping on to a comfy chair.

"Incendio!" he chanted, and the fire place sprang to life, spreading warmth throughout the room. Draco removed his cloak, settling down for a nice, long pondering session.

I can't stop thinking about her, his mind complained, thoughts wondering back to his Mione. He let out another sigh, and turned to stare at the fire.

Take away his doubt, turn him inside out

Then she can see what he's been dying to say

I should probably talk to her, explain everything and ask for her forgiveness. I've been such a wanker, I don't deserve her forgiveness. The inner battle began.

Why should she listen to me? I'm just some son of a Death Eater, is what she'll say. Then she'll mock me. I shouldn't even waste my thoughts on her.

Draco got up and began to pace in front of the fireplace. Shuffling his feet, he fell into a steady rhythm, one, two, one, two.

She's probably having a grand old time with Wonder Boy and Weasel, forgetting I ever existed. Well, the Mudblood can do whatever she wants! I could care less what she does in her pathetic little life...

Draco began to speed up his pace.

What am I saying?! He thought, coming to a halt. I do care what she does. She's on my mind every waking moment. She's the subject of my dreams at night. Who am I kidding? I love her...

But things don't always turn out that way

He plopped on the chair again, releasing a groan of frustration. His eyes began to wander around the room, resting on his bag. It sat so peacefully on the table.

Shoving it off, he let out a cry. Books and parchment fell out, scattering everywhere. Draco made no move to get it, but left it alone.

He moved to the sofa, lying on his back. His eyes traced the intricate pattern on the ceiling, following the gold, silver, red, and green.

Even her darn Gryffindor colors plague me, he thought wryly, turning away from them. His gaze came to the fire.

He let out another groan.

Now the fireplace makes me think of her! This is pathetic! He mentally screamed, sitting up.

He dragged his fingers through his hair in frustration, creating a mess out of the usually well-kept locks.

And he must confess

All the impure thoughts of his beautiful temptress

Suddenly, another image came to mind. Hermione stood before him, in her blue robes. Her chocolate tresses cascaded down her back, falling in waves of silk. Her luscious lips were turned into a dazzling smile. Those cinnamon eyes sparkled mischievously at him, causing him to smirk.

He reached out to touch her delicate face. Running his finger along her cheek, it came to a rest at her mouth.

He cupped her chin, and leaned in...

Argg! This is preposterous! I can't keep thinking like this! His mind screamed, while he grabbed his hair in frustration.

Although he keeps it all bottled up inside

Although he keeps it all safe within his mind, oh yeah

I must suppress these insane thoughts. I must be going mental, he reasoned, looking up from the floor, where his gaze had been sending murderous glares.

Don't think about her, don't think about her, he chanted, believing the repetition would make the ponderings vanish.

Cinnamon eyes...

No such luck.

For Merlin's sake! He cursed, picking up a pillow he had found on the couch. Mustering up all his anger, he released the pillow at the unsuspecting wall, feeling content when he heard that satisfying thunk.

His victory lasted for a miniscule time, for he sunk back down into the chair, depression resuming.

She's all that he wants, she's all that he needs

She's everything he just won't believe

I should have just told her, he confessed, burying his face in his hands, and then I wouldn't be in this delightful little predicament.

If I had let her know how much she meant to me, we would be here, and I would be snogging her senseless. Instead, I'm here brooding over how stupid I am for pushing her away and thinking about how I should be snogging her senseless. How very sad.

Draco looked up once again, this time at the painting of the Famous Four. The Hogwarts Founders.

What are they so jolly about? Can't they see a young chap is having a crisis?

Draco sneered at the happy portrait, resisting the urge to throw another pillow, this time the target being the painting.

The Founders smiled down at him, laughing every once in a while. Slytherin would place his arm around Ravenclaw, and look like the perfect couple.

Draco abruptly looked away from the portrait. Slytherin bares some resemblance to me, and Ravenclaw reminds me of Mione...

Take away his doubt, turn him inside out

Then she can say what he's been dying to say

I wonder if Mione would think the founders look like us...she'd probably look at me like I had gone crazy, then suggested I go visit Dumbledore about acquiring a patient form for St.Mungo's...

He let out a sadistic laugh, leaning back on the chair.

Then Wonder Boy and Weasel would come visit me everyday, and bring me Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans...this is really pathetic, I've been subjected to rambling...

I suppose there is some truth to that saying, "People do crazy things when they're in love." In my case, people think about insane things...

Draco let out another sigh. He had been sighing a lot lately. He stood up, and began to pace again.

She's so perfect, innocent and pure. Why would Hermione ever make the same mistake and take me back? She's better off without me.

But things don't always turn out that way

Maybe I should write her a letter? I'll explain why I have been such a prat... then she can toss it into the fireplace and continue her conversation with Weasel. Next, Wonder Boy will fly in and confess his undying love for her, she'll hop on his broomstick and they'll fly off to elope.

Draco had really begun to depress himself. He stopped pacing, and sat down yet again.

I have gone insane... he thought, smirking.

So wipe that smile off your face

Before it gets too late

There's only so much time

For you to make up your mind

The great Draco Malfoy has gone insane... and over a Muggle born... who would have thought?

Draco sunk down, back into his chair.

This is becoming a tiresome routine... I need to get out more... find a nice Slytherin girl, or maybe a smart little Ravenclaw... but definitely stay away from those Gryffindors.

What am I thinking...I don't think there ever could be another girl.

Draco slid to the stone floor, pulling his legs to his chest. Resting his chin on his knee, he looked at the cackling fire.

She's got too much spark, too much life, like a fire. No one can compare to her.

She's all that he wants, she's all that he needs

She's everything he just won't believe

Take away his doubt, turn him inside out

Then she can see what he's been dying to say

I have to talk to her.

Draco looked around the room, seeing the atrocious mess. He groaned, and began to gather the parchment.

While shoving the books in his bag, he thought he heard a sound. Shrugging it off, he slung the bag over his shoulder and proceeded to make his way to the passageway.

But things don't always turn out that way

The door slid open, and there she stood.

"I had a feeling I'd find you here," Hermione stated, looking up at Draco.

*~The End~*