Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they all belong to Jo Rowling.

Before wiping his hands of the blood and tears, Draco found himself hunched over the third floor lavatory sink, tears flowing down his cheeks. Why did he have to be so cruel? He knew that beating up first years was nothing to be proud of, yet he couldn't help but partake in it every time.

He had to. That was his mantra. He had to keep up his reputation and look good to Crabbe and Goyle. He had to for the sake of keeping up the Malfoy persona of pure, heartless cruelty. He just had to.

Forcing himself to face his own reflection in the mirror was nearly impossible. Draco was well aware of how his actions made him look in the eyes of others. Most people he could just shrug off, but when he saw the look of pain in those tawny eyes, he died a little inside.

Why should he care what that filthy Mudblood thinks about him? He knew the answer, for it lied deep down in his chest; a part that was saved just for her.

Draco shook his head of all haunting thoughts and turned the faucet on to wash away the remnants of his stupidity and ignorance. He wiped the tear stains from his face and did his best to make himself presentable – or at least descent – to walk down to the common room.

Stepping out of the lavatory, Draco silently cursed at himself, it was past curfew now, and he would undoubtedly land himself into another detention.

Creeping along the corridors, doing his best to stay hidden in the shadows, Draco praised himself on sending Crabbe and Goyle away when he did, just before he had broken down. The breakdown was caused by the mental image of the eyes, which reappeared in his head again. The eyes that had the power to melt his iced over heart.

Stopping to lean against the corridor wall, Draco chastised himself, "Stupid, she'll never love you. You're a heartless jerk and she deserves better."

That's when the sound of an ever-so-silent sob reached his ears. The familiar feeling of hostility overtaking him, Draco growled,

"Who's there?"

Emerging into the pale moonlight that shown from a nearby window, a meek and tear streaked Hermione Granger appeared.

Unable to come up with a hateful remark, Draco just stood there, mouth open slightly in awe of her presence at such an odd moment.

"I'm sorry, I expected you to be a silly first year sneaking out of bed," Hermione said, eyes adverted to the floor space between them, prefect badge glowing in the moonlight.

Deciding that hateful retorts would be pointless Draco nodded and replied, "I was just going back to the dungeons. No detours, I promise."

Silence fell as neither of the two sixth years looked at each other until finally Hermione asked,

"Who is she?"

Disbelief etched in Draco' features as he searched for some sort of reply. Saving himself from further embarrassment, or so he thought, he turned and walked away muttering, "Don't worry about it," over his shoulder.

"Draco!" she called. Using his first name for the first time ever was enough to stop him in his tracks. He closed his eyes, replaying the sound of his name on her lips over and over in his head. He didn't even hear her approach.

"Draco," Hermione repeated, grabbing his chin to force him to look her in the eye, "who is she?"

Unable to help himself, Draco reached a hand up to stroke her soft freckled cheek. It felt just as he imagined, and even more, he could swear that she was leaning slightly into his palm.

Pulling her into a full embrace, enfolding his arms around her, Draco whispered,

"You, Hermione. Always you."

He could feel her sob under his embrace, but he knew that they were sobs of happiness, just as the single tear that rolled down his cheek, magnified under the moonlight, was evidence of the happiest moment of his life.