Hey there! This is a little oneshot to see how well I do with them (I've only been writing long stories), glimpsing Draco Malfoy's developing feelings for Hermione Granger throughout their years at Hogwarts. Hope you like!

Pain Through Love

Year One

Who was she? Draco Malfoy wondered this, his eyes following the girl with bushy hair he had bumped into on the train. Not that it mattered, not really. After all, if she wasn't Sorted into Slytherin, she didn't matter at all. But still, it'd be nice to know her name. Just in case she was in Slytherin. He watched her all the way up until when Professor McGonnagal called her name. "Granger, Hermione." The bushy-haired girl walked nervously up to the stool. Draco tried to appear uninterested. The Sorting Hat contemplated a bit, before shouting out, "Griffyndor!" He felt his heart sink a little, but it rose again when he was placed into Slytherin. After all, Hermione Granger didn't matter. Not really.

Year Two

He hadn't seen her in a few months. Not that he cared, he told himself. It wasn't like she mattered. She was a Mudblood, and a Griffyndor, worse than filth. But still. He wouldn't mind seeing her again. So he made sure he got on the train early, grabbed a compartment and watched everyone board. She was one of the last ones on. He wondered briefly if she would stop and say hello, but she walked on by. His heart sunk a little, but it rose again when his friends found him. After all, Hermione Granger didn't matter. Not really.

Year Three

She had punched him in the face. Hermione Granger had punched him in the face! He thought she might have broke his nose, but Madame Pomfrey said it was just going to be a bruise. Walking back to the Slytherin Common Room alone, he contemplated what had just happened. Sure, he had been a bit of a jerk, and agreed that he whole-heartedly deserved to be punched in the face. Had he seen something in her eyes when she had hit him? No, no, it was just the pain talking. After all, Hermione Granger didn't matter. Not really.

Year Four

He was in a daze. That couldn't be her, he kept telling himself. No, it couldn't be. And yet, it was. Granger had come to the Yule Ball with Victor Krum. He couldn't believe it. He also couldn't believe that she could look like that. She was stunning in a robe of sapphire, her hair unfrizzed and up in a perfect bun. He could barely breathe. But she was a Griffyndor. And a Mudblood. His father would never forgive him if- if nothing. He sighed, his eyes still trained on her. Suddenly, he felt a tug on his arm. "Drakie-poo!" Parkinson was hanging off of his arm. He smirked. After all, Hermione Granger didn't matter. Not really.

Year Five

He couldn't believe that she would betray him like this! Not that they were dating or anything... or ever would. It wasn't his fault that Umbridge had told him to grab them! And now she had left with Potter to lead Umbridge to some kind of weapon? If only he had been able to go with them... He tried to snap himself out of it. It didn't work. Finally, his grip had accidentally slakened enough to let his prisoner go, and soon enough him and the rest of the "Inquisitorial Squad" were down on the floor trying to reverse their hexes. Once his Bat-Bogey hex had disappeared, he sighed and went back to his dorm. After all, Hermione Granger didn't matter. Not really.

Year Six

He barely saw her anymore, much less anyone else. He spent more and more of his time in the Room of Hidden Things. He knew Potter was onto him, but he was getting more and more desperate. The only thing he was careful about was making sure she stayed far away from his tries. He didn't think he could live with himself if it was his fault that she was hurt or killed. Not that she would care about him, he told himself ruefully. A few minutes later, he fixed his Vanishing Cabinet and felt his heart lift. After all, Hermione Granger didn't matter. Not really.

Year Seven

It was his fault that she was gone. His fault that she had to leave. His fault, his fault, if he hadn't fixed that stupid Cabinet, none of this would ever have happened, none of the constat fear that she would be killed. The one thing he did know was that she was safe, for the moment. Seconds later, Fenrir Greyback entered with Dean Thomas, Potter, Weasley, and- her. He felt his heart stop as he stared into those eyes for the first time in months. And then he was dragged over to stare into Potter's. Something had happened to his face, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was Potter. He glanced over into her eyes again, saw the pain and the fear. He turned to his Aunt Bella. "I don't think it's him." He told her. He turned back to her, tried to say everything he had ever wanted to say to her, but his mother was dragging him away. He poured his love into his eyes, hoped that she might understand, because Hermione Granger was truly the only thing that had ever mattered to him.