dramione microfic: A Consistent, Persistent Thought
He’s twelve and he says it with relish.
She is filthy, she is beneath him. He knows this because his father says so and his father is never wrong. Draco brutally asserts that he hopes she dies, both craving the shock value and looking to position himself as Slytherin’s paragon of pureblood values. Just as father had instructed. And Draco will not fail his father, innocent peers be damned.
He’s eighteen and he thinks it desperately.
The Wizengamot announces a witness in his defense and the whole courtroom gasps. It’s Potter, which will go further with the courts to be sure. But Draco has a speech to deliver and his intended audience isn’t present.
He puts it in a letter instead.
He’s eighteen and crosses his fingers beneath the desk. The new Hufflepuff of a potions teacher wants to “shake up house relations” and assigns partners for the year. Draco longs for someone competent so he can survive his court-mandated Eighth Year with high marks to show for it.
He’s stuck with Dean Thomas.
He’s twenty-two and it slices through his brain out of nowhere when Pansy promises to find him a date. She’s just announced her engagement to Dean and takes Draco aside. “You can’t go stag to our wedding Draco, how embarrassing. I’ll set you up.”
He’s set up with the little sister of a friend and has absolutely nothing in common with her. But Granger, he discovers, has loads in common with him. Their respective dates long forgotten, they sit at the bar and trade book recommendations to avoid the dance floor.
He makes her smile more than once and laugh exactly four times.
He’s twenty-three, twenty-four, now twenty-five, and has a stupid swell of hope whenever his friends say:
“I’ll introduce you to a friend of mine.”
“You have so much in common!”
“She’s a highly accomplished witch!”
He’s twenty-six and the silent wish is now listless. Dean’s just revealed that a certain female friend has been asking Pansy a curious number of questions about Draco lately.
“I asked her to join us tonight,” says Dean.
Draco frowns. “But this is our pub night. No Pansy, no… anyone else.”
Dean laughs and finishes his lager in one go. “Sorry mate, but she’s a busy witch, this was her one free night. Here she comes now.”
Draco turns and finds Granger approaching; tentative yet determined smile on her face.
“Don’t cock it up,” warns Dean as he leaves.
“I hope you don’t mind, Dean said this was your usual spot and I was welcome to join.”
“Not at all. I’d hoped you would.”
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