Forgive Me

I know we broke some fences
I’d like to mend them now
Even if, the way I see
You should be the one taking that step
Even when you made me cry
I didn’t hate you
And I hated myself
Not knowing why
Even when you ignored me
I still hope that, one day
We’d see past blood-lines
To what we really are inside
And if a paper’s worth of feelings
Doesn’t help you see
That I’ve forgiven you…
I hope you’ll still forgive me.

Draco felt the blood drain from his face.

When he’d first picked the paper up after it had fallen from Granger’s bag, he’d thought it would be a love-letter to the Weasel. Not that they were going out, but to anyone with eyes it was obvious that the git loved her. But it would have been wonderful black-mail, if that had been what it was. And when he’d seen his name on the outside, it had only intensified his desire to see what was inside.

He was only grateful that he’d gone back to his dorm room before opening it. He was also thankful that everyone else was in the Great Hall for lunch.

Hell, forget grateful—he was ready to get down on his knees and thank the Gods and Goddesses for all eternity.

After all, having someone you’ve teased, annoyed, sneered at, talked down to, and belittled forgive you… Well, at the very least, it was disconcerting. At the most, it was one of the only things that could make Draco Lucius Malfoy speechless.

To be completely truthful—not that he often was—he was so completely shocked that he literally could not move.

Not many things could do that to Draco Malfoy. And that scared him.

And because it scared him, it made him mad. No one should be able to make a Malfoy feel that way, especially not a Muggleborn. He narrowed his eyes, crushing the parchment in his fist. It was probably a joke, anyways, designed to make him look like an idiot. He walked out of the Slytherin dungeons, heading towards the Great Hall. He would confront her, make a jab about her parentage, and then consider it done.

Draco smiled in contentment. Yes, that would be good.

He was walking so fast that he wasn’t watching where he was going, and ran right into someone. They both fell to the ground, whoever he’d run into falling on top of him.

“Oof!” Draco’s eyes widened as he realized it was a girl lying on top of him. And her body wasn’t bad, either… He could feel her bosom against his chest, not extremely large, but not bad at all. One his hands snaked down to her hips, and he was happy to find that she had a very nice—

The girl slapped his hand away, growling at him. He almost laughed. She’d growled at him. His eyes suddenly focused on her hair, and he started making connections. Brown, bushy hair. Large, amber eyes staring straight into his own gray ones. White shirt, no buttons left undone.

Draco’s eyes widened again. It was Granger lying on top of him. Why had he never noticed her body? Oh, right. She was a Muggleborn, for one. For another, she wore very loose robes that completely hid her curves. He scrambled up again, and Granger fell off of him onto the ground. She stood up and glared at him.

“What did you do that for?” she asked angrily.

“I could ask you the same question,” he retorted.

Her brow furrowed. He couldn’t help but notice how cute she looked when she did that. “What are you talking about, Malfoy?”

“I’m talking about this,” he smoothed the crumpled parchment on which she’d written her poem and held it up. Her face went white, and instead of smirking, Draco frowned. Why would she be embarrassed? Wasn’t he supposed to be the one being embarrassed? Not that he was of course, but hadn’t her goal been to embarrass him?

“Where did you get that?” she whispered, sounding horrified.

“It fell out of your bag.”

Granger nodded, still looking embarrassed.

“Well?” Draco asked impatiently.

“Huh?”

“You never answered my question,” Draco said, annoyed.

“Oh, uh, well…” she trailed off, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve. She swallowed, and Draco raised a brow, amused. Seeing his look, she squared her shoulders and continued. “Exactly what it says. I wanted to tell you that I forgive you.” Seeing his look of disbelief, she said it again, elaborating, softly. “I forgive you for making fun of Harry and Ron. I forgive you for trying to hurt Harry. I forgive you for insulting Cedric. I forgive you for calling me ‘Mudblood.’ I forgive you for everything.”

Draco stared at her, shocked. Sure, he’d read the poem, but this… This was… Well, shocking. “What?” he blurted out, immediately cursing himself for doing so.

“You heard what I said. I forgive you, Draco Malfoy, for everything.” She gave him a small smile.

“Yes, I did hear,” he scowled at her. “There’s nothing wrong with my hearing. What I want to know is why.”

Granger shrugged. “Because… Because I wanted to. Because I don’t think you’re as bad as you let on. Just…because.” She turned to go.

“Wait!” he yelled. Gods, she was making him do all sorts of weird things! He was blurting things out, standing speechless… And now practically begging her not to leave.

She paused, not turning around. “What?”

“I…” he trailed off. What on Earth was he doing? He didn’t have anything to say to her. He glanced at the parchment, suddenly remembering another question he’d had. “What do I need to forgive you for?”

He could have sworn she smirked. “For slapping you, third year.”

“Oh.” Once again, he didn’t know what to say. Granger seemed hesitant to leave, as though she realized that she was affecting him in a way he did not like. He scowled. “Would you turn around?”

“I didn’t hear you say the magic word…” she said in a sing-song voice.

He scowled again. “Please.”

She complied, smirking at him. Honestly! That was his smirk! What was she doing with it? “So?” she asked.

“So what?”

“So, what do you want?”

This question made him look at her again. Really look at her, like he’d been feeling her earlier. She had curves, alright. Her current robes weren’t as loose as they usually were. He was very grateful for this, although he wouldn’t admit it. And he was feeling a very bad—in his opinion at least—pull towards her. He smacked himself inwardly. He was attracted to her! Wonderful. Imagine telling that to Papa Lucius. Hey, dad, I’m lusting after a Muggleborn!

Not that it mattered anymore. The man was dead, after all. He didn’t care as much as he probably should. He was just glad to be out from under his father’s control. It didn’t hurt that He Who Must Not Be Named was gone as well. Of course, it was thanks to Potter, so maybe it wasn’t that great.

He scowled inwardly. Why was she suddenly making him speechless? What the devil was the matter with him?

A slow smile crept onto Granger’s face. “Why Draco, are you speechless?”

He gaped at her. “Did you just call me Draco?”

Her face flamed, but she didn’t answer.

Draco raised a brow. “You did…”

She scowled at him. “Well?” she demanded.

“What?”

She groaned. “You didn’t answer my question. The first one.”

He was quiet again. Why did he want her to stay? Sure, he was physically attracted to her, but that wasn’t a good enough reason. Well, there was the fact that she intrigued him, the whole fact that she had forgiven him, instead of it being the other way around. Which it no doubt should have been.

He sighed. “I can’t accept that you only did it ‘just because.’”

She shook her head. “You’re right, but I can’t tell you why.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll make fun of me. Laugh at me with your friends,” she said quietly.

Draco was quiet. Truthfully, he didn’t have any friends. Crabbe and Goyle were lackeys more than anything else, Blaise was just his cousin, and Pansy trailed after him like a cat in heat through no want of his own. She wasn’t attractive, for one. For another, she didn’t have much of a brain.

In all honesty—that girl was certainly making him be honest and truthful with himself!—he wanted to marry someone, or at least date someone, who had a brain. It would be nice to have something besides sex. While nice, it wasn’t as fulfilling as he wanted it to be. Maybe that was the problem. Granger had a brain. She had a very good one, for that matter. She was top in all classes except Potions, and he had a feeling that was only because of Snape’s favoritism towards him.

That must be it. It was her brain. She was exactly the type of girl he’d been looking for. He tilted his head, looking at her again. Yes, she was smart. And it didn’t hurt that she was good-looking. Now to see what she thought of him. He crept forward slowly, catching her eyes. They widened, unsure what his intentions were.

Draco stopped when he was six inches from her. She was only about four inches shorter than he was. She was quite tall, having shot up during the summer. A small smile crept onto his face. That didn’t hurt, either. He leaned down, brushing her lips with his before deepening the kiss, snaking his hands around her waist.

She stood rigid for a moment, and instead of pushing him away, as he’d expected, she wrapped her arms around his neck. He was shocked, but careful not to show it. One of his hands came up, burying itself in her hair. It wasn’t as bushy as it looked, just extremely curly. And very soft.

Hermione—when had he started thinking of her as that?—moaned as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, and one her hands came down, sneaking into his robes. He gasped as her hand touched his chest, the few top buttons of his shirt suddenly open. She started walking towards him, forcing him to back up until he hit the wall. Draco was shocked by her forwardness as he realized that his shirt was now completely open.

Draco broke the kiss, looking into her eyes. “Wh—”

Hermione put a finger on his lips. “Don’t talk, don’t ask, don’t think.” Then she pulled him into an empty classroom, and pulled him to the nearest desk. “Just be.” And she started kissing him again, one of her hands on his neck, the other working on getting his robes off.

Draco eagerly complied with her wishes, his own hands working on her robes and, when those were out of the way, her shirt. He groaned against her lips when he found that she didn’t have a bra on, and he cupped her breast, brushing his thumb against her taut nipple. She shivered, wrapping her legs around his now bare waist, pulling him against her.

Draco broke the kiss, panting, and began to trail his mouth against her neck, one hand coming down to her skirt, pushing it off, his fingers lingering on the lace edge of her underwear. He grinned, pressing little kisses to her breast.

Suddenly, they were both naked, and Draco backed Hermione up against the wall, her legs still wrapped around his waist. He looked into her eyes, giving her one last chance to back out. She gave him a smile and shook her head, pulling his head down for another kiss.

Draco eased into her slowly, certain that she’d never done this before as her initial tensing indicated. He shuddered, forcing himself to move slowly. She gasped, her nails digging into his back, as he moved the last few inches. Slowly, both of them neared completion until suddenly Hermione tensed around him, and Draco gave one last thrust before burying his face in her hair, reveling in his own release.

He eased himself out of her and slowly dropped to the floor, Hermione in his lap. “What…” he said shakily, “Was that?”

Hermione laughed. “I’m not certain.”

Draco pulled his head back until he could look into her eyes. He shook his head. “Neither am I.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Draco spoke again.

“You never answered my question.”

“What… Oh.” Hermione looked uncomfortable. She cleared her throat. “Well… Uh…” She squared her shoulders, looking him in the eye. “I did it because I don’t want you to hate me forever. And I don’t want that because I like a certain bad boy far more than a good girl should.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “Ah.”

“Yes.”

He was silent for a moment. “I want to say something.”

Hermione nodded.

“I forgive you. And I also want to say that I’m sorry for everything.”

Hermione smiled, her eyes bright with tears, and shook her head. “I already forgave you. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Draco shook his head. “Yes, there is. I hurt you a lot over the past six and a half years. I just want you to understand that I am sorry.”

Hermione smiled again. “I forgive you Draco, and I accept your apology.” She smiled mischievously. “Maybe you can…” She wiggled her bottom. “Thank me?”

Draco grinned, really grinned. He didn’t smirk. He grinned. “That, Hermione, is something I have a very good feeling about.”

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