Disclaimer: I do not own :)

A/N: Okay, so. I began writing this as a big long one-shot, and tonight, I changed my mind. Because I'm really enjoying my other Dramione drabble story, "Shards of a Broken Mirror" I knew I'd like this. This story shows how a variety of HP characters view Draco/Hermione's relationship. The thoughts of these characters do not all occur around the same time -- some may be at their wedding, some may be at their first kiss. They also won't be about the same Draco/Hermione relationship. One might be about a Dark!Dramione, another may be light and humourous. They'll all be about different versions of the Dramione couple, at different times in these different versions. If you don't understand that, just ask me to explain again, or read a few chapters to get the hang of it.

Also, I'll do loads of different characters, but I may repeat some. I might like their POV. But, each one will be about a different moment, in a different version of D/Hr. Hope you get it!

The drabbles will be pretty short, too. About 500 words? But it will definitely vary per character.

Some of these will be canon, most will be fanon.

I'm not thrilled with the first two chapters, but they were written months ago, with some editing tonight. I hope for the others to be better, give me that chance ;)

Enjoy, and please review.

Pansy Parkinson;

He thinks no one sees it.

I sit next to him, drinking him in. He looks around blankly. He sees nothing.

Zabini talks loudly, thinking everyone is listening. They're not.

Crabbe and Goyle sit drunkenly, even though they're not drunk. They look around emptily.

I look at the pale statue sitting beside me. His eyes hardly move from the door. The only sign of life is his quiet breathing.

Then she walks in.

He's alive in the space of a heartbeat. His eyes flicker to hers and they connect. She blushes and looks away. He continues to look at her. He watches how she walks, he watches how she sits. She can feel it, it's evident.

I trace his arm. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't look at me. It stings more than a glare or insult would.

She flips her hair over her shoulder and glances at him. He smirks, but it isn't cruel, it's teasing and familiar. It was a smirk you gave a friend.

Or a lover.

Her smile is too happy, his eyes are too bright. They think this is invisible. It's pathetically obvious.

I try to look at her and not see dirt. I try to see what he sees.

She's pretty, in a strange sense. But he can get any girl he wants, and there are hundreds prettier than her. So why would he pick someone so average?

She's smart, of course. But since when did he ever want a girl who cared about nothing but her marks? She's a brainiac with no life, and we both laughed at her for it. Before.

I try to come up with another half-hearted compliment when I look at her. Instead, all I see is his reflection in her eyes, and the smirk on her lips.

When I look at her, I see nothing deserving.

I glance at her many times until the bell rings. I can't see what he sees.

He brushes past her when he leaves the room. No one notices the lack of insult. No one feels the electricity in the air. No one sees how he glances back at her and winks.

No one notices me tremble.

I let them pass me. I lean my head against the cool brick wall.

I wish he would ask if I'm alright. I wish he would have concern in his eyes.

He doesn't notice. He walks past, his eyes darting to hers. Silver meets gold. They smoulder.

I look at the bricks. They don't comfort me.