The fire crackled in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the worn stone walls of the Slytherin common room. A half-empty bottle of firewhiskey sat on the table beside me, the amber liquid reflecting the flickering flames. Blaise and Theo were engrossed in a game of Exploding Snap, their laughter echoing through the room, while Mattheo brooded in a corner, a dark cloud perpetually hanging over his head.

I, however, was lost in my own thoughts, a familiar ache settling in my chest. It was always the same after she left. Hermione Granger. The bane of my existence and the object of my… whatever the hell this was that I felt for her.

Months. Months we had been sneaking around, meeting in hidden corners of the castle, succumbing to a raw, undeniable attraction. The sex was… phenomenal. Mind-numbing. Everything I thought I knew about her, about myself, shattered into a million pieces whenever we were together.

But then the sun would rise, and the reality of who we were, what we represented, would crash down. She always pulled away, her eyes filled with a familiar mix of longing and… disgust? Disappointment? I wasn't sure which stung more.

“Lost in Granger-land again, Draco?” Blaise’s voice cut through my thoughts, laced with amusement.

I scowled, taking a long swig of firewhiskey. “Bugger off, Blaise.”

“Just saying,” he shrugged, throwing down a card with a smirk. “You’re starting to look lovesick. Not a good look for a Malfoy.”

“I’m not lovesick,” I spat, the denial tasting bitter on my tongue. “She’s just… complicated.”

“Complicated like trying to translate ancient runes while riding a Hippogriff backwards,” Theo chimed in, earning a glare from me.

Mattheo remained silent, his gaze fixed on the fire. He knew better than to comment on my… entanglement with Granger. He of all people understood the burden of a complicated past.

“She’s ashamed of you, Draco,” Mattheo finally said, his voice low and gravelly. “That’s what it is, isn’t it? The great Hermione Granger, sullying her pristine reputation with a reformed Death Eater. You know why, Draco," Mattheo said, his voice low and laced with an edge of cynicism. "You're a Malfoy. A former Death Eater. You carry the weight of your family's sins, whether you like it or not."

I bristled at his words, but I couldn't deny the truth in them. Hermione saw me as damaged goods, a tarnished relic of a dark past. She reveled in her golden Gryffindor glory, her spotless record, her unwavering morality. And she couldn't reconcile that with me.

"It's not fair," I said, the words laced with bitterness. "I've paid for my mistakes. I've worked to earn my place. But she still looks at me like I'm some kind of monster."

"She's a Gryffindor, Draco," Blaise said with a shrug. "They're all self-righteous. They think they're better than everyone else."

"She does," I admitted, the memory of our last argument flashing through my mind.

"You know I care about you, Draco," she had said, her voice soft but firm. We were in the Room of Requirement, the air thick with unspoken words.

"Caring isn't enough, Hermione," I had retorted, my voice laced with desperation. "I want more than stolen moments and whispered secrets. I want you. I want us."

"But what about everything else?" she had countered, her brow furrowed with worry. "What about what people will think? What about my reputation?"

"To hell with what people think!" I had exploded, my patience finally snapping. "Are you really going to let the opinions of others dictate your happiness?"

"It's not that simple, Draco," she had insisted, her eyes pleading. "You don't understand. I'm Hermione Granger. I have a reputation to uphold. I can't just throw it all away for… for you."

Her words had stung like a slap. I saw it then, the way she truly viewed me. A risk. A liability. A stain on her pristine image.

"So that's it, then?" I had asked, my voice flat. "I'm not good enough for you?"

She had flinched, but she hadn't denied it. "It's not that you're not good enough," she had said, her voice barely a whisper. "It's just… you're not the right fit for me."

I had laughed, a hollow, mirthless sound. "Right fit? Is that what I am? A fucking pair of shoes? Something you can try on and discard when it doesn't suit you anymore?"

"Don't be like that, Draco," she had pleaded, reaching for my hand.

I had pulled away, the pain of her rejection searing through me. "Just leave, Hermione," I had said, my voice cold. "Just go back to your perfect little world and leave me to rot in mine."

That was always her shield, wasn't it? My past. My mistakes. Something that I can't even take back now, after all these years. Something that I would forever be paying for, it seemed. She saw me as less than her, tainted, unworthy. A project, perhaps, that she could never fully commit to because the risk to her own self-righteous image was too great.

I hated the way she made me feel. Vulnerable. Exposed. Like I had spent years building fucking walls around myself, only for her to tear them down with a single, cutting word.

The firewhiskey burned a path down my throat, but it didn't ease the ache. I knew Mattheo was right. She was ashamed. And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to be ashamed of myself for letting her treat me this way. For constantly chasing after someone who saw me as a stain on her perfect, Gryffindor image. She’d always been self-righteous.

I needed a distraction. Something, anything, to take my mind off Granger and the mess I had made of my life.

The next evening, I found myself wandering the Hogwarts grounds, the crisp autumn air biting at my cheeks. I passed the Quidditch pitch, the library, the greenhouses, but nothing caught my attention. I was about to head back to the castle when I saw her.

She was sitting by the Black Lake, her back to me, nose buried in a large leather-bound book. Her hair cascaded down her back, catching the sunlight. There was an ethereal quality about her, something almost otherworldly.

I didn’t recognize her. I knew most of the students at Hogwarts, but this girl was new. Or perhaps I had simply been too preoccupied with Granger to notice.

I hesitated, unsure of whether to approach her. I didn't even know her name. She looked so peaceful, so serene, unlike the constant turmoil that seemed to follow Granger everywhere.

She looked up as I approached, her eyes meeting mine. They were the color of wonder, deep and captivating. She was.. well everything Granger wasn't. I stood there, speechless for a moment, lost in the depths of her eyes.

"I... I just saw you sitting here," I stammered, feeling an unfamiliar heat rise in my cheeks. "I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy.” I tried and failed to mask my embarrassment with my usual vibrato, a smirk on my lips.

I didn't know who she was, or where she came from. But as I stood there, gazing into her eyes, I knew one thing: I wanted to find out. And maybe, just maybe, she was the distraction I desperately needed. A chance to escape the shadows of my past and the suffocating grip of Hermione Granger. A chance to start anew. Maybe she would see me for what I was. Not for who I'd been..