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Prologue

It wasn't the first, second, or third time I saw her that made me realize my love for her. I couldn't pin down a certain date or a certain event as the exact "aha!" moment. After a while, I just knew. It became a part of me. It resonated in my very core. It was something no one, not even my blasted father, could take away from me.

My love for Granger angered me at first. I had never done anything to upset or to rebel against my father before. I was frightened and petty, all while subconsciously taking it all out on her.

She wasn't the prettiest girl I ever met, not by a long shot, but there was something about her cleverness and know-it-all attitude that made her the most beautiful girl in my eyes. I was captivated by her awkward, nerdy charm that radiated off of her. I lived for the moments where I could sneak a glance at her unnoticed. Her very presence got me through some dark times.

Unfortunately, she hated me. She always did. I could tell. The contempt shone in her eyes with a fiery passion. It killed me every day, but still I relished the fact that her hatred meant she at least felt something for me, even if it meant I could never have her.

But how I desperately wished we could get past out prejudices! If only I could have let go of my pride, things would have been different. I was nasty towards her, and she deserved none of it.

I remember the first time I saw her. It was at platform 9 ¾ at the opening of our first year in Hogwarts. She was saying her farewells to her out-of-place parents. One could tell from the sight of them that they were muggles.

"Mudblood filth," my father sneered. "Be sure to stay away from it, Draco." He swept his long, white-blonde hair over his shoulder.

"Yes, father." I awkwardly attempted to mimic his contempt.

When I boarded the train, I found a compartment with a few fellow pureblood first years my father had pre-approved; he had known their parents from the "glorious" days when the Dark Lord was in power.

While they bickered and boasted about their long-standing Slytherin lines, I stepped out for some air. Though I would eventually grow to be their ring-leader, all of the talk of blood and family pride suffocated me.

As I walked down the narrow isle way I accidentally ran into a short girl with thick, bushy brown hair.

"Sorr—"I began. "Oh it's her," I muttered under my breath, recognizing her as the mudblood my father pointed out to me earlier that morning.

"Have we met?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

Bloody hell, I thought to myself, she heard me.

"No, I think I'd remember trying to purge myself of the stench of a filthy mudblood," I sneered, trying my best to sound like my father.

Her eyes turned bloodshot. "I thought hatred for muggle-borns had died out," she hissed through her abnormally large teeth. "And I'm so not used to being wrong."

Ha! I laughed to myself as she stalked away. She was quite endearing when angered. I thought so even then, despite my fierce inborn hatred for muggle-borns.

That next summer, I told my father everything I could remember about Granger, although I turned everything to the negative to please him. As I talked about her, though, the more I began to miss her. It disgusted me. She was clever and bright. Always had the right answers up her sleeve, despite her being wrong on the train that day. I couldn't go a second without thinking about her, or feeling guilty for thinking about her.

I was unbearably embarrassed when we bumped into each other at Flourish and Blotts. Father just had to say that I had told him all about her and for some reason that year I was especially cruel.

I told all of my friends that it was her I wanted killed by the basilisk, and I wanted to believe that lie myself. If she was gone, I wouldn't feel so guilt ridden all of the time! It made perfect sense in my naïve twelve-year-old mind. When she was petrified, however, I realized just how wrong I was. I would rather have the basilisk kill me than harm another hair on her head. ME! The arrogant, egocentric git! I couldn't believe it… but it was true!

Third year, I accidentally ran into Granger using her time-turner. We were all alone in the corridor, which was unusual because she usually had Potter and Weaselbee with her. I normally was blessed by the dull, un-stimulating company of Crabbe and Goyle.

"Granger!" I hissed. "Where'd you get a time-turner?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not now, Malfoy." Suddenly startled, as if she just remembered that her possessing a time-turner was supposed to be a secret, she rushed over to me. "I know you hate me," she said urgently leaning in close to me. She smelt of old books and lavender. It took everything I had to not lean in closer. Stop, I told myself, this is Granger, Filthy Mudblood Granger! "But you have to swear not to utter a word of this to anyone!"

"Why not just perform a memory charm on me if you're so worried?" I mocked her. "Or is it that magic too advanced for even you?" I paused. "Why do you have one, anyway?"

"I'm taking too many classes to fit in a normal schedule." She covered her mouth, surprised that she confided in me.

I couldn't take it anymore. I reached my hand up and gingerly touched her face, not even for a millisecond, then pulled away sharply. She looked terrified. I quickly turned away shouted "I promise," over my shoulder before running to where I needed to be. I suspect she didn't slap me just because I rubbish talked Hagrid later that month.

I admit I was quite disappointed she had Madame Pomfrey fix her teeth to better than normal after I accidentally jinxed her. Those teeth were always charming in my eyes.

She took my breath away at the Yule Ball. I have reason to believe that I wasn't the only person jealous of that chum, Viktor Krum. Weasley was so miserable, that if I wasn't feeling the same way, I would have relished and teased him for it.

Fifth and sixth years flew by, and somewhere in them I realized that I didn't like Hermione Granger; I loved her. By that time, however, I had already pledged myself into killing one of the people she loved most. When I went to use the killing curse on him that night on the Astronomy tower, her face kept flashing around in the back of my mind, and I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill him.

I didn't know whether to be relieved or afraid for her when she didn't show up to Hogwarts for our seventh year, but I figured wherever she was she was with Potter and Weaselbee.

I couldn't choke back my surprise when Greyback and his snatcher posse brought her and her little friends to my house during Christmas holiday. And when Aunt Bellatrix was torturing her… I swear I could have died a painful death right then and not feel a thing except for her pain. It almost brought tears to my eyes, but I couldn't cry in front of my family. Not for her; though she would have been worth the trouble 50 times over.

She was a true Gryffindor during the Battle of Hogwarts. Beautiful, brave, and strong… It struck me harder than ever as I watched her, that I was fighting for the wrong side. Even so, I was too weak to betray my mother and father.

At the close of the battle, after Voldemort had died, I felt both relief and sorrow. I swore to myself then, that no matter what, I would no longer be prejudiced towards my fellow human beings, although I didn't promise anything about my pride. Call it a guilty pleasure if you must.

The sorrow came when I looked towards Hermione and Weasley. They looked so in love, and she was so happy. It broke my heart clean in two.

Granger looked up, and she caught my stare, which was probably deep and penetrating enough to pierce holes in the air.

I stood abruptly, tears clouding my vision, and left my parents. I didn't realize she was following me until I neared the Slytherin common room.

"Malfoy!" She shouted, calling me.

"What?!" I hissed, pounding my fist against the wall. She winced as the sound of breaking bone filled the air. My hand hurt, but not as much as my heart did at that moment.

"I…I…I saw you staring at Ron and me, and then stormed off."

"Yeah? And? Why is that any of your business, Granger?" I growled.

"I was just… worried." She tilted her head as if it was strange to her as well.

"Why worry about me?" I murmured darkly. "You hate me."

"Like you're one to talk! You have hated me since the first time you saw me because my parents are muggles!"

"Hate you? No, I…" I paused. I couldn't betray my feelings to her. Not here, not now while she was pitying me. "Never mind!" I shouted and stalked away leaving her hurt and confused.