Let Me

Show me the way,

And light the path

To lead me to the alleys

And the chambers of your heart.

Give me a map,

And a set of instructions

On the ways to make you smile,

Complete with directions.

I'm just a little bit clueless,

And a lot uncertain

On how to break down your walls

And look behind the curtain.

Toss me the key,

And help me work the lock

That binds your emotions

And keeps me in the dark.

Spare me some hope,

And give me a chance

To be the one to make you laugh,

And dream, and dance.

He had fascinated her. Really. He still did.

Back then, she saw him everyday. Not that she watched him, mind you. But it was impossible to live and sleep and eat and breathe and study and dream in the same amazingly large confined space the way they did and not run into each other occasionally. And on those occasions, she happened to put her observant mind to use. Doesn't everyone pay closer attention to those things that fascinate them?

No, to be honest...it had started out as merely sparing him an unconcerned glance on those unfortunate occasions when their paths did cross. And perhaps it was during one of those casual perusals that she noticed it.

He never smiled.

A devil-may-care smirk, yes. A haughty sneer, almost always. A barely-tolerant grimace, certainly. But a true lips-upturned-eyes-crinkled-face-glowing smile? Never.

And, back then, she couldn't help but wonder why it was that he never smiled. A person may not have the happiest life, but there are scores of tiny reasons to laugh every minute...how could a person not seize even one of them?

She laughed softly to herself now, remembering the startled look on his face when she had flashed him that first tentative half-smile. His aloof demeanour had actually dropped for a nanosecond as he stared at her in shock, Of course, the mask had slipped right back into place after that, and he tossed her a patented glare.

Well, hell, she wasn't just the most intelligent girl in their year; she was also the most stubborn. So she smiled at him the next day. And the next. And the next.

And then, one day, he snapped. He stalked up to her, pushed her against the wall and stared down at her. "What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she shrugged, a small smile playing about her lips.

He looked perplexed. "Why, then?"

She looked up at him and smiled widely. "Why not?"

"Why not? There are so many reasons!" But still, he let go of her and stepped back. And smiled before walking away.

After that, they passed each other in hallways in school, exchanging secretive grins that prompted many passersby to wonder what accident in Potions had brought about this behavioural anomaly.

They worked together on school projects, much to the outrage of their housemates and the bewilderment of the teachers.

They went to the school dances and feasts hand-in-hand, which of course, resulted in indignant exclamations and avowed curses from their respective best friends.

They made love in the painting exhibition room in the South-East Tower, much to the embarrassment and amusement of the inhabitants of the paintings.

And while their differences caused many a tear to be shed, the smiles always came, like the sun peering out behind the pewter clouds after a rainstorm.

Now, she smiled up at him, and he smiled back at her without giving it a second thought. It had become a reflex action. With her, the smiles always came readily. How could they not?

Leaning down, he kissed Hermione on her forehead, inhaling the tangy scent of her brown curls under the lace veil. And she cherished the sight of Draco's grey eyes crinkled in pure, unadulterated happiness.

... Spare me some hope,

And give me a chance

To be the one to make you laugh,

And dream, and dance.