A/N: This is a complete fic, despite of its shortness. It’s not fluffy, nor mushy, but it
isn’t morbid nor gothic…it’s just real. This is inspired by my devotion to the D/H pair
and by a fleeting scene (blink-and-you-might-miss-it-unless-you-are-a-real-D/H-fan
type of scene) from book 4. It’s mentioned at the A/N below after the fic. This fic is
especially dedicated to all devoted Draco/Hermione fans. To the readers: You’ll get
the whole and real meaning of this only at the end (or near-end). This is worth a read,
IMHO. Please read and review. Thanks. After reading the fic, please read my A/N
below. Thanks again! :)

At Night She Came To Me

by bohemian vixen
 
 
 
 

At night, she came to me.

In her arms, I found heaven.

I grazed a finger down her soft cheeks, her lips, and the contours of her face, feeling
the silky smoothness of her skin on my fingertip.

I stared into her deep brown eyes, those eyes that drowned me and made me forget
everything else, even what I was, and what she was. I was just a man, and she was
just a woman. In that state of heart and mind, what mattered to me was that we were
together.

In her presence, I found warmth—something I had not known much about, something
I hardly experienced before. Now, not only did she give me warmth, but she also gave
me fire. She kindled my spirit and my heart, both of which I had never thought existed
any longer. Before, I thought the cold was comforting, because it had been the only
comfort I had known…until she came along.

I twirled my finger around a chestnut lock of her hair, and she smiled. Her smile was
beautiful and sincere. I remembered that it was her smile that started it all.

It was her smile that stirred something inside me, years ago.

The first time I saw that smile, she was in flowing periwinkle robes. And she was
also on the arm of another man, but I chose to forget about that now. All I remembered
was the moment she walked in the Great Hall, her hair up with a few loose tendrils
framing her face.  I once knew that there was something different about her, and not
just her fixed teeth or straightened hair. It was the way she carried herself, it was the
way she radiated pure joy in her smiles.

I could not bring myself to insult her then, as I usually did. I was too surprised at the
new light in which I was seeing her. I had been captivated then…and still was.

At first I told myself that she just grew up, as I did. I berated myself, reasoned with
myself with all my might. She was not for me. I was meant for someone better. Her
blood did not mix with my blood. But there was a point in my life when I stopped
denying and stopped fighting against it.

Maybe it was because I had been depriving myself for so long of simple joys which
I deserved. All my life I tried to live up to expectations, and most of the time whatever
I did was not deemed enough. My life had been planned for me before I was even
born. I did not know any other kind of life, so I embraced what was taught to me by
my father. As a consequence, I missed out on a lot of things that I did not know I
even missed.

So I gave in.

I might be my father’s son, but I was also a man.

And when I surrendered to her, I discovered my greatest pleasure…and for the
first time, my greatest happiness.

In all these years since I first saw her in a new light, I found out a lot of other
wonderful things about her. Aside from her beauty, I marveled at her intelligence,
her bravery, her tenderness…everything about her. I loved her with as much
love a man like me could possibly give—that much was true.

And so every night she would come to me, only at night, in secret.

It would not have been this way if both of us lived in another time, in another place. If
we had been any other people, it would have been perfect. But there was no perfection
in this sick, sad world.

She changed who I was, but that was not enough. Sadly, no amount of magic in the
world could change what we were, and where we came from.

And so we stayed this way. Every night she would come to me.

She would give me her sweet smile. She would look into my gray eyes. She would
caress my blond hair. She would hold my hand.

And then every morning I would wake up.

In the morning, I would see her smile sweetly…but not at me. She would look into
a pair of brown eyes. She would caress not my blond hair, but someone’s red hair.
And she would also take his hand.  Before my very eyes.

For years, it had been that way. At night she would come to me, and in the morning
I would wake up to reality. It was a reality where she was with another man—and not
just any man, but a man I truly hated—and I spent my time watching her. I derived
joy and pain at the same time from doing so.

That was the vicious cycle, every single day and night.

I would never, ever let her know.

And she never had an idea, for ever since I realized I loved her, I hid under a mask
of hostility greater than ever towards her, hoping against hope that I would not give
myself away. I inflicted insults at her more painful than before, because I wanted her
to feel the pain she unknowingly caused me—the pain of not being able to be with
her, the pain that came with the realization that my heart strayed from the direction
I had been born to take.

I was never really a brave man. I was scared of what I felt for her. I could not imagine
how I could face all the consequences when she would find out. Not only could I not
bear my father’s wrath, but I also could not bear her suffering in my father’s hands.

But then again, maybe I was really brave, because I could bear to live with my pain
so long as I would not cost her a far more terrible and unimaginable pain than what I
already had given her in all the years that I had known her.

Today was the last day we see each other as students. We were both off to the real
world. I had no idea when we would see each other again.

For all I knew, we would see each other next time in a battlefield, where we would
have no choice but kill each other, since we support different sides.

When we meet again, she could kill me, but she would not find her death in my hands.
That was the most I could do for her. I could kill anyone from her side…but not her. I
would spare her and protect her with all my power from anyone from the Dark Side.
Even without her knowing it.

There were a lot of questions in my mind…why couldn’t it be, where do I go from here,
why her, why me, how do I deal, and so on. But there were some things in life that were
never meant to be answered. And there were some things that were better left unsaid…
like ‘I love you, Hermione.’

And I did not know why. All I knew was that at least at night, in my sleep, she was mine.

I alone knew that every night, she would come to me, in my dreams.

Only in my dreams.
 
 
 

A/N:  That was sad, I know. And I know JK will never pair Draco and Hermione up,
so I wrote this one. Even if Hermione will end up with Ron in the books, I’d like to think
that Draco is secretly in love with Hermione. I’ll always nurture that belief whatever
comes up in the books, even if Ron marries Hermione. I’ll just pretend that Draco has
a hidden desire for Hermione but he just isn’t able to let anyone know because of the
circumstances. I’ll always remember it when I’ll read books 4-7. Yeah I’m demented. :)

This fic is mainly inspired by the following lines from Book 4, Harry Potter and the
Goblet of Fire, chapter 23, The Yule Ball:

‘Parvati was gazing at Hermione in unflattering disbelief. She wasn’t the only
one either; when the doors to the Great Hall opened, Krum’s fan club from the
library stalked past, throwing Hermione looks of deepest loathing. Pansy
Parkinson gaped at her as she walked by with Malfoy, and even he didn’t seem
to be able to find an insult to throw at her.’

Just one phrase… ‘even he didn’t seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her’
made my imagination go hyperactive. I’ll find anything, just anything in the books that will
give me hope of a D/H romance. That’s how much of a D/H fan I am. *blushes*

I’m a big fan of Draco. He’s my favorite bad boy. I don’t want him to change. Without
him, the Harry Potter books won’t be that much fun as they are. I’m also a big Draco/Hermione
shipper coz the pair is very passionate, sexy, strong, fiery, dark, tragic, complicated, exciting,
intriguing, dangerous, and powerful. The D/H pair is against all odds. I mean all—there is
opposition from just about everyone and everywhere, even from themselves…which makes
it very riveting and entrancing! Okay, I just about drooled over the pair. I’m so sorry to
Ron/Hermione shippers out there. I think Ron and Hermione are better off as friends. I dunno.
I agree with R/H shippers that yeah, there’s chemistry between the Ron and Hermione, and
it’s obvious that JK builds the pairing up up. But the R/H pair is safe, predictable, and
wholesome, because HP is primarily a children’s book. I don’t want safe, predictable, and
wholesome love stories. They’re boring.  As for Harry/Hermione pairing…gak! The H/H
pair is the ultimate epitome of platonic relationship. They’re like brother and sister. I see no
chemistry whatsoever. It’s too…blah. Before Ron/Hermione and Harry/Hermione shippers
stone me to death, this is IMHO only.

I wish the genius JK would give more attention, dimension, and complexity to Draco’s
character. And I’m really intrigued with the Malfoy clan and their family tree.  I just know
that there’s a deep dark secret somewhere…okay, okay, I gotta stop, or else the next
thing I’ll know, I’ll be writing a fanfic epic, probably a trilogy, (with a title like ‘Legend
Behind the Malfoy Name’ or ‘The Malfoy Chronicles: Untold Saga’) of the Malfoy
clan spanning from the Stone Age (okay, not Stone age…maybe the Dark Ages, before
the Renaissance) to the present, and I’ll be writing about family curses, deep dark secrets,
sacrifices, lost loves, decisions, soul-searching, and of course, evil. *a light bulb suddenly
pops over my head* Hey that’s not a bad idea…*wink wink* :D
 

He Who I Never Knew (sequel to At Night She Came To Me)