Light Comes On Slowly

But you better keep moving before you get totally cold

And you better start growing up before you get old

Totally wicked and equally ace

Draco Malfoy was never surprised. In his young life, the only time he could ever remember being truly startled was when he came upon his mother crying to herself in her dressing room one night when he was six. And he'd found that rather funny. Even now he could look back on the event and cackle wickedly, as a well-trained Slytherin should. The first shock of his life hadn't made much of an impression on him and Draco honestly thought of himself as truly impenetrable. He was a master anticipator. He knew precisely what hour of what day the seasons would transition from spring to summer to fall to winter. He knew what he would get for Christmas, that Goyle was gay and the Voldemort would lose. Draco Malfoy had killer instincts about everything. Until her.

Hermione Granger had surprised him, and with no effort, no tears, not even a word. She didn't need to speak to him to render him utterly stunned. The mere sight of her forced his breath into his throat and made his hands sweat and tremble more than before a Quidditch match. A glance at her slim, pale fingers trailing across the mahogany banister as she made her way down to the Great Hall was too much for him. He imagined those fingers entwining with his calloused ones and a sudden jolt made him turn his head away and stare at a portrait of a shepherdess tending her flock.

This being Hogwarts, the portrait stared back.

"Well?" Demanded the little shepherdess, flicking a golden curl over her shoulder. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

A snort was his reply and the little shepherdess rolled her blue eyes at Draco's retreating back as he spun on his heel and raced to the safety of the far end of the Great Hall. It wouldn't do to be caught staring at the Mudblood, especially with Potter and the Weasel swarming round her like bees on honey.

Anonymity was his only consolation. If anything, he'd managed to be even more malevolent towards her since the birth of his powerful crush. The last thing he needed was for anyone to suspect he was softening towards Gryffindor's Princess. Thank the gods no one knew she reduced his insides to jelly whenever he saw her walking down the stairs, or how much he longed to smile at her when she came stumbling into class laden down by books, obviously exhausted from studying. He had a perverse and unfamiliar desire to swipe those heavy textbooks out of her arms and follow her around wherever he went. Follow her to the ends of the earth. He scoffed at himself for his sappy turn of phrase. It was so irritating that she of all people, was inspiring him to such a flowery homage! Really, it wasn't as if the girl looked anything to write home about. She'd always been pretty, sure, but never to the point of distraction - at least, Draco's distraction. That all changed upon his first glimpse of her this new school year, a glimpse that in retrospect, foretold of upheaval to come.