The Devil's Rose Garden

Draco Malfoy carefully added the last of the roses to his meticulously composed and undoubtedly beautiful sculpture. It was a simple dome shape, but contained nothing but long stem black roses... with one red, tossed in a random place as if it were mistaken as ebony. He'd been working for weeks to find the exact placement each flower needed to be for the composition to withstand the forces of nature. True, it was inside... but it never hurt to be safe. He'd practiced with plastic cups, a greater challenge, but a lesser quantity. When this was perfected, the flowers seemed cake. He'd only tried one dress rehearsal, in which he'd used felt flowers, conjured from random things such as books or a pillowcase. He didn't do it for safety; he did it for research. Draco needed to know exactly how many flowers would be needed, if he wanted his masterpiece complete. It was their first Valentine's day... he wanted everything perfect. It had taken exactly 143 roses to create this structure, but he'd bought 150, just in case.

As the last and most difficult flower was placed, Draco moved his hands from the dome slowly, holding his breath. Once a distance away, he sighed. It was perfect. Beautiful... just like her. With a smile at her thought, he looked to his watch. She would be there any minute. It had taken longer this time. He didn't want anything to go wrong. Slowly, Draco backed into a chair, keeping a safe distance from his roses. Nothing would go wrong.

Fifteen past the hour, Draco was getting worried. He knew she had obligations elsewhere... but somehow he was sure she would come. She knew how much he wanted her there.

Half past and the girl of his dreams still did not grace his doorstep. Draco sighed, leaning back in his chair. Perhaps something came up... maybe someone was hurt, and she'd gone to help. He couldn't bring himself to even think it may be her who was harmed. As the minutes dragged on, Draco found himself drifting into his memories...


"Problem, Granger?" Hermione looked up from her spot on the cold stone below her, then turned her eyes back to the lake, ignoring him. Draco took a step toward her. "Granger... I believe I asked you a question." She looked up again.

"Are you talking to me?" Hermione asked sweetly, although there was a hidden note of depression in her voice. Draco rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm talking to the other Granger. The one right there, who looks rather like rock," he said, sarcastic through and through. Hermione gave a tilt of her head.

"Oh," she said, turning back to the water. Draco was beginning to get annoyed. No one ignored him like this. What card was she playing?

"Granger, I don't know what you're thinking to get out of this, but I'd suggest you stop your nonsense and answer me."

"Again, I ask, are you addressing me?" He groaned.

"Yes, dammit. You are Granger, are you not?" Hermione sighed.

"No," she admitted and Draco seemed surprised, lifting an eyebrow.

"No? Well, then who the hell are you?" Hermione shook her head.

"I don't know." Draco sighed and sat down beside her on the rock, back facing her.

"Alright..." he said, sounding bored, "Tell me what the bloody fuck you're talking about."

"Ew..." was her only response. Completely in the dark, and not liking it one bit, Draco turned around, to see a disgusted look on her face. He lifted an eyebrow. "Bloody fuck." She repeated, and he laughed out loud.

"What's burrowed into your brain and planted a devil rose garden?" Hermione smiled.

"Couldn't tell you."

"Well," Draco said, unsure of why he was acting that way. Perhaps it was the atmosphere... the mood. "I wish you'd tell me something. Like... why you deny your identity... why you're not trying to start a brawl with me... and why you're not at the dance." At this, Hermione looked up to the school. The lights of the great hall created a window shaped sun kiss on the snow. She sighed.

"I've just found out that that's not my identity, you didn't start with me, I see no reason to start with you... and it was just too damn Christmas-y in there." Draco lifted an eyebrow. "I suppose you'll want explanations?"

"Only of the first response, if you will. Save time, save life."

"I have no life..."

"I've been telling you that for years," Draco countered, unable to control his instinctual reflex to spout comebacks like a sprinkler. Hermione, however, smiled.

"My parents owled me this morning," she said. "Turns out... they're not my parents." Draco kept quiet. "I can only assume that I was adopted... or something. All it said was, 'We regret to inform you, Hermione, that we do not wish for you to come home for Christmas. Gwendolyn' my mother... or so I thought 'is, after countless years of trying, going to have a baby. Unlike you, it will be flesh and blood. We also will not be able to attend your graduation, but we wish you luck in the future. Love, Mum and Dad.'" Draco was speechless for a moment, not a normal occurrence. When he realized this, he spoke up.

"I find the closing rather inconsiderate," he offered, and Hermione cracked a smile.


"And why exactly have you so willingly given your gilded adversary such detrimental information?"

"Because you're here... and, technically, I have no grouse with you now. Hermione Granger hates Draco Malfoy... but I am not Hermione Granger. I'm just... Hermione. Hermione is a completely different person, and has decided to start over. This includes all friends and enemies. Although, books don't count," she stated and Draco gave her a strange look.

"And what makes you think I'll go along with this?" he asked, honestly curious. Hermione shrugged.

"You don't have to. In fact, I don't expect you to. But, that's a risk. If you really hate me, all you have to do is call me a few foul names, insult me in anyway you can, and, poof, Hermione too with hate Draco Malfoy. But for now, she is undecided."

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that speaking in 3rd person is the surest sign of insanity?" Hermione smiled.

"I actually think someone did, once." Draco pretended to be upset.

"Aw... I was hoping to be your first." At this, Hermione burst out laughing. She patted his shoulder.

"You can, Draco. Just give me a few weeks, and I'll give you a REAL bloody fuck." This time, Draco grimaced. "Oh," Hermione said, biting her lip. "Is that a turn off?"

"You are seriously ill in the head, Granger."

"Lighten up. Who stuck a broomstick up your ass, anyway?" Draco smirked.

"If you like, I could help you feel my pain," he suggested, and Hermione shook her head, laughing.

"Does that mean you'll give Hermione a chance?" she asked. "No insults yet."

"Oh, right... I forgot about that. Ah, well... if she really thinks she's got one, she can have a chance." He agreed, for a reason beyond him. It wouldn't be until much later in the night, while he danced in the hall, holding Blaise Zabini in his arms, that Draco would think back on this encounter and wonder exactly what had happened. He had no reason or desire to be friends with Granger... until she asked. No one had ever asked to be his friend before. However inadvertently, Hermione did.

"Aright," Hermione said, while she sat beside him on the stone. "That's one down, and um... well, a lot to go. If you'll excuse me, Draco..." she asked, standing up, "I've a few people to converse with." With a nod, Draco moved to the side and let her pass, then watched as Hermione made her way up the hill to the school, leaving footprints as the only evidence she'd ever left.


Draco smiled in his chair, sitting between the warm fire and his sea of black roses. He never once regretted his agreement to again try out a friendship with her. They'd progressed throughout the school year, written over the summer, and now the first Valentine's they would officially celebrate was upon them. It'd been over a year since that night by the frozen lake... the night of the repeated Yule Ball. Just the memory bored Draco. Why would they repeat something that was only enjoyed by the guests, if the guests weren't coming? And two years after the original?

As he rested comfortably in his chair, the clock struck nine. She was an hour late. Draco decided that she wasn't coming. He frowned, hoping he hadn't been wrong in not believing something had happened. Just then, however...

"Draco," Hermione gasped as she burst through the doors, and Draco, startled, jumped up from his chair. Hermione was breathing hard, arm on the doorframe for support, and Draco found himself slightly worried, and overly curious. He stepped toward her, but didn't say a word. When she caught her breath, Hermione looked up, smiling. "Sorry I'm late..." Draco shook his head.

"You're fine," he assured, brushing her chin with the backs of his fingers. Hermione gave him a warm smile. "Come here, I want to show you something," he said and led her from the door of their common room to the table upon which sat his construction. When she saw it, however, Hermione frowned. She looked up at Draco, who was standing beside her, a proud and excitable smile on his face. He too frowned when his eyes grazed her expression. "What's wrong?" he asked. "You don't like it?" Draco remained calm and passive, but inside he was crushed... he'd placed each rose perfectly... a devil's rose garden. Hermione sighed and turned away.

"Draco..." she said softly and he slowly shook his head, breaking away from her to seat himself back in the chair he'd vacated. He'd hoped she wouldn't respond this way... that perhaps she might have given him a chance. She owed him one. Hermione gave a deep sigh and knelt beside his chair, although Draco didn't look at her. "You know how I feel about things like this, Draco. I appreciate it... I do, but... you want something from me that I can't give you." Draco turned to her with one word on his mind. Hermione knelt there with pleading eyes, begging him to understand, but Draco simply stared.

"Why?" he asked, one word with a thousand answers. Hermione looked down, unable to meet his eyes. She rested a hand on his and he turned away.

"You know why, Draco. Don't pretend... we've had this conversation hundreds of times before... you know I don't feel that way for you." Draco turned away. "I care for you, Draco... never doubt that... but... I don't..." She couldn't bring herself to say it. Draco stared directly into the fire.

"Love me," he said, and Hermione wasn't sure if it was a provided ending to her sentence, or a request. She shook her head, however, and turned her eyes away.

"I can't." Draco said nothing, and there was a brief silence before she spoke again. "I have something else I need to tell you." He didn't bring his eyes from the fire and she sighed. "That's fine... you don't have to look at me.... Draco, I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend that I'm okay with you acting the way you do... I admit, worshipping the ground I walk on is a bit of an upgrade from setting it aflame, but..." she said, smiling slightly and hoping to get a slight rise out of him. Draco looked as if he hadn't even heard her and, again, Hermione sighed. "It isn't fair to you," she said. "I know how you feel about me... you know that I don't feel the same way... and I can only imagine how that is... I know it hurts, Draco, and that's why I've decided. I can't hurt you anymore... I think we should end our friendship now, before it progresses. Do you understand what I'm saying, Draco?" Although inside he'd long since broken down, Draco remained hard on the outside, unable to face her. Hermione sighed, deciding he would eventually, if he didn't already. She stood from her crouch and took her hand from his. "I do care, Draco. I do."

And with that, she was gone. Draco listened to the footsteps as they made their way up the stairs, then flinched as he heard the door to the head girl's dormitory close. It wasn't slammed, but it didn't help. She was gone, and he was alone with his flowers.

Draco sat alone in the common room for hours, alone, just running her words through his mind.

You want something from me that I can't give you... I don't feel that way for you...

He understood what she felt; he did... but Draco didn't understand why it had to be this way. He could live with the pain, as long as he had her... but now, he didn't. She'd said she didn't want to hurt him... and then let his absolute worst nightmare become reality. She was gone... and he hadn't even attempted to stop her.

I know how you feel about me... You know that I don't feel the same way...

When the clock struck midnight, Draco stood slowly from his chair and stepped toward the table. He ignored the urge to simply vent his frustration on his rose garden and remained calm as he began collecting them in his arms. When he could carry no more, Draco walked slowly and silently up to his room and retrieved the bag they'd been sent to him in. After depositing his armful, he picked up the tote and brought it back to the common room, replacing each and every flower in it. When this was done, Draco sighed and placed the bag on the table. He took from it a hand full of black roses, and started up to her room. Trying his hardest to remain silent, Draco made it up the stairs and stood outside her door. He wanted nothing more than to break in, wrap her in his arms, and apologize, as many times as needed to regain her friendship... but he couldn't.

With another sigh, Draco placed one black rose on the floor outside her doorway, very aware of the sobbing from within the room. He tried his best to ignore it and turned around, starting down the stairs. He had work to do.


Hermione woke the next morning, thankfully a Saturday, just as the sun reached the horizon. She sat up in bed and wiped her eyes, although the tears had long since dried. She couldn't believe she'd actually done it. Hermione had been planning her speech for almost a month... but never had the courage to tell him. It was so hard... she knew Draco loved her... she didn't want to hurt him... but sometimes you had to be cruel to be kind. He wanted something Hermione truly wanted to give... but she didn't trust herself with the exchange. He wanted her heart... and she simply didn't feel ready to part with it yet.

Draco had been the best friend she'd ever had. True, there was Harry and Ron... but they simply didn't understand her. Draco had never once asked for the answers to homework... or ignored her... even if he was previously occupied. She smiled in remembrance at the time he'd been in the common room, playing cards with the prefects. When she'd returned from the library, he'd smiled up at her while Morag, the Hufflepuff prefect, asked if she wished to join. Hermione had sweetly declined, informing that she simply wanted to go to sleep. While the other four had nodded and turned back to their cards, Draco kept eye contact. She'd given him a small smile and started up to her room. Hermione had barely had time to change before there was a knock on the door. She answered it to find Draco standing outside, grinning and looking sheepish. His friend regarded him curiously, but he simply placed a tiny kiss on her cheek.

"Sweet dreams." And, just like that, he turned and fled down the stairs, leaving her to sleep. Hermione knew she would never forget that... there was simply something about it that made her smile each time she remembered.

And there was never a day gone by that he didn't ask how her day was... or how she was feeling. If she showed even a slight symptom of anything, he'd bombard her with questions until she confessed. Hermione knew it was because he cared and again felt a smile.

Then, she thought of last night. Draco hadn't shown a smidgen of hurt as she'd spoken to him... but Hermione knew he was bleeding inside. She felt her heart drop into her stomach each time she thought about it. She'd cut him deep... everything would change. No more tiny goodnight kisses... no more late night rendezvous... no more Draco. Again, Hermione felt the tears come and her lip quiver. She buried her face in her pillow and commenced crying, continuing on the abandoned sprawl she'd started last night.

Although Hermione had only gotten in about three hours of sleep, she dragged herself out of bed at seven and calmed herself. This was no way to act; she'd been the one to suggest their breakup... if you could call it that. They'd never officially been together...

With a sigh, Hermione straightened her pajamas and picked out some clothes, then shuffled toward the door on her way to the bathroom she shared with him. She dreaded seeing Draco again... but this early on a Saturday there was little chance of that. As she opened her door, however, Hermione saw the rose. One, solitary, long stem devil rose, placed lovingly on the carpet, its leaves spread like waiting arms. Another tear slid down her cheek and Hermione sniffled into her hand. She could interpret this sign like no other could. Draco forgave her... he wasn't angry... he understood what she was doing... but he still felt the same way. And, chances are, he wanted her to forgive him and come back... Of course, Hermione wanted to... but she couldn't. She couldn't put him through that again... It wasn't her fault he loved her, but it was her fault if she didn't do anything about it.

She did pick up the flower, however. She brought it with her to the bathroom, holding it like a tiny baby. As she entered the lavatory, however, Hermione discover that she needn't have brought it, as there were some waiting for her. There were roses tucked everywhere... down the drain of the sink, in the mirror cabinet, two crossed on the cover of the toilet... and a layer of black petals in the bathtub. Deciding that she might as well take advantage of Draco's romantic creativity for once... Hermione ignored the rest of the roses and stepped into the shower as if the petals weren't there. She turned the brass knob and pulled the cord, allowing the warm water to wash over her, and onto the bed below. A sweet sent... somewhat comforting and warm, drifted up from the bottom of the tub, and Hermione basked in it, smiling.

Everywhere she went, Hermione found a rose. Draco knew her well enough to know where she'd go... there was one on her breakfast plate, one on the black owl which came with the morning post, one on each step of the staircase to the second floor, a spontaneous petal or bud every here and there down what seemed like every hallway... they were everywhere. And, as opposed to that fluttery feeling one gets when complimented, Hermione was screaming inside. If this were her lover who was doing this for her... she would probably have cried in joy... but this was Draco. He was only hurting himself by building his hopes... and that hurt her. She would give anything to ease him of his burden... to make him able to live his life outside her shadow. She really didn't mind that he loved her... or that he tried to take care of her when she really didn't need it... what Hermione minded, was that she didn't do the same.

As she passed the suit of armor at the library entrance that held a black bud in each of the grates in his mask, Hermione turned her eyes away. She could see him in her head, up until ungodly hours, planting each of the daggers that pried their way into her heart. Hermione ignored the blossoms that peeked from the bookshelves as she tore through the rows, stopping directly in front of the book she needed. As if she didn't notice anything odd, she plucked it from the shelf and went directly to a table, which also had upon it a black bloom, and leafed through the book.


"Why did she have to be so beautiful?" Draco whispered as he took in the dusty smell of the library. He'd been waiting there, hidden in the corner of the library where he knew she would never go, for hours. It was still early, and not even first year purebloods who took muggle studies even ventured into the 'Everyday Life of Muggles' row. Although; Draco was content. He had an absolutely perfect view. When she had come in, he'd held his breath, watching as she picked up a book and headed to a table that could be no more flawless.

Draco watched as Hermione sat silently hunched over her book, hoping the rubbing of her eyes was an effect of sleepiness and not that of sadness. He'd heard her crying the night before... but something told him she wouldn't accept his comfort. In fact, that might have made things worse.

When Hermione grew bored with her book and returned to the shelves, Draco straightened. He watched as she drifted to the front desk to speak with Madam Pince, and his eyes lit up. This was it; this was his chance.

Draco slipped the tiny piece of parchment into the open book, in clear view of anyone, and speedily returned to his hiding place. Hermione conversed for almost a minute more before she returned to her seat. With a sigh, she slammed her book closed and brought it back to its place on the shelf, picking up the one next to it. Draco frowned, and shook his head. She hadn't even noticed.

With a struggled sigh, Draco spun around and left the library in a billow of robes. Hermione never even looked up from her book.


When the noon bell rang, Hermione slammed her book shut. She'd never been so sick of Potions in her life. In the four hours she'd been in the library, Hermione had read maybe three pages. She simply couldn't concentrate. That heavenly smell that had filled her bathtub that morning lingered in the air. She couldn't imagine how many flowers there must have been in the library alone... it drowned out the smell of the books. It was distracting. With every breath she took, Hermione was reminded of Draco, and what he'd done for her. Just as she was about to stand up, a shrill giggle was heard from the table to her left and she inadvertently turned to see. A sixth year Ravenclaw was holding a black rose under her nose, giggling with her friends as she smiled and twirled it. An unexpected bubble of rage coursed through Hermione and she turned away, asking herself why.

Why? Wasn't that obvious? Those were her flowers... they were meant for her. That little... Without a thought, Hermione slowly stood from her seat and crept toward the girl's table, hiding behind shelves. She didn't stop until she was within earshot.

"I think they might be from Justin," the girl said and her friends giggled. Hermione found herself even angrier. If that little bitch thought Justin Finch-Fletchley had the foresight to even be romantic... much less spontaneously, she had another thing coming. "Isn't he sweet? He gave me a red rose on our first date... maybe the black symbolizes something... like, sorrow? We had a fight last week... Valentine's was so lonely... I think he misses me." That was the last straw for Hermione. How could that girl take something so precious and personal and turn it into some lovesick puppy's imitation of Divination class. Justin would never be able to think of something like that. With red in her face and fists clenched, Hermione spun around the corner of the bookshelf and stomped her way toward the table. The girls looked up, startled. Hermione walked directly to Justin's girlfriend and swiped the rose from her hand. She looked surprised for a moment, then glared. "What do you..."

"These are not for you," Hermione hissed in a low voice; she was after all in the library. "And they are most certainly not from Justin. If you think him romantic... I suggest you take one minute away from your curlers and mascara and get to know him a little." And with that, Hermione left the library, holding only the one rose she had taken from Justin's ex. It wasn't until she was halfway down the hall, angered and stomping all the way, that she stopped. "What am I doing?" Hermione looked down at the frail flower in her hand, for the first time noticing how the thorns had been carefully removed. It was so beautiful... and yet, it seemed like not only the flower that caught her eye... but the prospect behind it. "Oh my... god..." she thought. "I love him."

After a moment of freeze frame thinking, Hermione shook herself. So what if she loved him? Bloody brilliant time to realize it. With a sigh, she shook her head. She couldn't tell Draco. She had to stick to her plan... although she wasn't sure why. For his benefit. He had to get over her. Of course, that's why. For Draco.

Giving her best attempt to put the thoughts out of her mind... blame her overreaction on the fact that that library tramp didn't deserve half as much attention, Hermione made her way back through the halls and toward her dormitory. She could be alone there... unless, of course, Draco was there. Then again, she had to face him sometime. Make sure he knew the roses had no effect... even if it was untrue.

Hermione climbed through the portrait to the Head dormitories and held her breath. To her relief and disappointment, Draco was nowhere to be seen. There was a dying fire, a collection of roses that hadn't been there when she'd left, and disheveled couch cushions... but no Draco. With a small sigh, Hermione fed the fire, fixed the cushions and sat down, meaning to think. She looked around at the roses, which were practically everywhere, and sighed. How much trouble did he really go to? It wasn't as if they were simply strewn about the room like dirty clothes... they were delicately place in the most creative and romantic of places. They were stationed perfectly in the logs for the fire... not resting on top... lying in criss-crosses on the mantle... spell-o taped to the bottom of the glass coffee table... poking out of lamps, lying in alternate directions up the stairs... She imagined his hands would smell like roses for weeks. As Hermione looked around, something peculiar caught her eye. It was a known fact that the eye instinctively seeks out things that are different, and this most certainly was.

Her current conquest in literature was lying on the table between the couch and the chairs... and from the top protruded the blood red rose she hadn't noticed last night. Hermione was undoubtedly curious. Looking both ways as if someone might see, she pulled the book into her lap and opened it to the page with the rose. From the top of his staircase, Draco grinned. He'd wanted to make sure she didn't miss it this time.

A tiny piece of parchment was wrapped around the stem of the rose, and Hermione uncurled it slowly. She couldn't imagine what it might say... but she couldn't say it surprised her. One line was written on the strip, like the fortune from a Chinese cookie.

Does he ever get the girl?

Against her will, Hermione felt a tear slip down her cheek. She wanted nothing more than to scream the answer in her heart out loud... hope that wherever Draco was, he was in range. 'Yes!' her mind repeated over and over, begging on grounded knees that she agree... but Hermione was stubborn. She would never back down from a challenge... and that is most definitely what that was. Taking in a pained breath, Hermione used her wand as a pen and magiked up a reply before standing and leaving the room, carrying only the blood red rose in her hand. Draco felt his heart wrench as he watched her and slowly climbed down the stairs as if her note might harm him. He lifted it with tentative hands and swallowed before reading.

I'll be sleeping in Gryffindor tonight.

One line. One message. A thousand words. Even after everything that he'd gone through... although he'd painstakingly slaved for her all night... she dismissed him that easily. Draco's knees buckled and he fell into the chair behind him. He simply couldn't be mad at her... he knew she was just trying to help... but she was doing a pretty fine job at making him doubt she cared at all. Although... perhaps he was being selfish... asking her to be something she wasn't... trying to sweet-talk her into it. He deserved rejection... and she deserved an apology.


"Draco! What are you doing here?" asked Blaise Zabini, by far the prettiest and most modest girl in Slytherin. Draco gave her a half smile and shrugged.

"Is it a crime? I am still a Slytherin, you know. This is still my house common room," he said, looking around at the green and silver filled dungeon with a small sigh. It'd been a while.

"Yeah..." Blaise said, "But you haven't been here at all this year... never..." Draco smiled.

"I had a fight with Hermione," he admitted, and she frowned, patting the couch cushion next to her. With a slight sigh, Draco sat down. Blaise was the only Slytherin who had said anything about his befriending Hermione... most others were too afraid to agree or disagree... but Blaise had said she was proud of him.

"What happened?" she asked softly and Draco smiled, proceeding to tell her almost the entire story. When he finished, Blaise nodded. "So that's what the roses were... I was wondering. Filch is gonna have a fit." Draco smirked.

"It was worth it... even if it didn't work." Blaise smiled.

"She just doesn't want to hurt you," she said, and Draco nodded, rolling his eyes.

"That's what she said... but she's doing a damn lousy job." Blaise gave him a sad smile.

"I'd really love to give you some advice, Draco... but I really don't know what to tell you. I'd just give her some space... she can't really mean that she wants to totally break off contact... you looked so good together."

"Not helping," Draco replied numbly, and Blaise gave a small smile, patting his shoulder.

"I'm sorry... I am. Look, I'm supposed to be meeting someone... can we talk later?" Draco sighed.

"Sure. May I ask who?" Blaise grinned.

"Promise not to tell? I'm not as influential as you are... I could lose friends," she said, sounding desperate, and Draco chuckled.

"I won't; promise." Blaise leaned in to whisper in his ear, although there were no others in the room. Draco's eyebrows flew high. "WHAT?" She rolled her eyes.

"If you can have the mudblood, why can't I have the boy-who-lived?" Almost at once, Draco glared. Blaise looked only slightly scared. "Oh, come on, I didn't mean it like that..." she said, pouting her lip. Draco sighed.

"I know. Alright... go meet Potter... but if he ever does anything..." Blaise smiled and shook her head, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Harry wouldn't hurt a fly, Draco... unless, of course, it was Voldemort masquerading as a fly." Draco rolled his eyes as Blaise got up.

"Be careful," he called to her as she flounced out the door and again, Draco found himself alone.

Draco wasn't lonesome for long, however. Less than ten minutes after Blaise left, a nameless first year strolled in, looking slightly unnerved. His eyes widened slightly as he saw Draco, who paid him no mind.

"D... are you, erm... Draco Malfoy?" the boy asked, stepping toward him, and Draco looked up. He lifted an eyebrow.

"Who wants to know?" The boy looked nervous.

"Er... Harmony Granger... the Head Girl. She told me to look here and tell you to meet her in your common room," he said timidly, and Draco's other eyebrow joined its twin.

"She said that?" The boy nodded. "Oh, well... thank you," Draco said and stood up, brushing past the boy and out the common room portrait, on a mission. The moment he reached the head dormitories, Draco stepped through, only to find the common room empty. He did see, however, a red rose on the coffee table, below a complete sheet of paper. All of his notes had been on pieces... it intrigued him. Draco stepped up to the table and moved the flower bud to view the one word written on the parchment.


Does he ever get the girl?

Not a minute later, Hermione descended the steps from her room, eyes on her feet and hair blocking her face. Draco watched her wordlessly as she approached him, unsure of what to say. Hermione looked almost as if she didn't know he was there... her eyes never left the floor, and her path never changed; she was heading directly toward him. She stopped when she found herself in front of Draco and he dropped the letter, letting it flutter to the floor. Tentatively, Hermione looked up.

"Hermione..." he started, but further words were blocked... by two lips, pressed against his.


A/N: I do not own Harry Potter or:

This ruined puzzle is beige with the pieces all face down

So the placing goes slowly, the pictures of anything other than it's meant to be

But the hours the creep, the patterns repeat

Don't be concerned, you know I'll be fine on my own-- I never said don't go

I've hidden a note, it's pressed between pages that you've marked to find your way back

It says "Does he ever get the girl?" but what if they pages stay pressed

The chapters unfinished, the stories too dull to unfold-- does he ever get the girl?

I've hidden a note, it's pressed between pages that you'll read if you're so inclined

This basement's a coffin, I'm buried alive. I'll die in here just to be safe

Cause you're gone, I get nothing, and you're off with barely a sigh-- I never said goodbye

This Ruined Puzzle by Dashboard Confessional

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