Ours

This is first of some fanfiction I have posted on the Fanfiction website. I own nothing. Characters are J.K. Rowling’s. This is not made for monetary purposes. I just really love HP and Dramione.


“Why him, ‘Mione?” my ex-boyfriend, Ronald Weasley, asked me at dinner at the Great Hall. All of the seventh years should complete their studies, which were interrupted by the previous events. So now, all of us were still at Hogwarts, and in my case, I’m stuck with Ron pestering me about my relationship with Draco Malfoy.

“Why not? I can choose the person I wanna be with, can’t I?” I sassed.

“Yes, but ‘Mione-” Ron replied but Harry interrupted him.

“Ron, it’s her choice, okay? And as her best friends, we should support her,” Harry said with a sigh. It’s good that Harry understands, because it’s bad enough to have Ron bugging me all day.

“But if that ferret does anything to hurt you, I would really like to—” Harry said darkly before being interrupted.

“I won’t, Potter. I can assure you. And if I ever do that to her, I’m sure she’ll hex me to bits before you can,” Draco said with a smirk. He has gone from the Slytherin table to approach us, but now no one even bothered to stare, the students are now used to it. Harry and I laughed.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” Ron grumpily asked.

“I want to talk to Hermione,” Draco stated the obvious.

“Then start talking,” Ron said, clearly being nosy.

“Keep your nose out of our business, Ron,” I said, then stood up to go with Draco.

My relationship with Draco started a few days after the opening of our eighth year. It began with him apologizing. I really don’t expect him to, but he did. After that, he comes to my usual spot in the library and sits beside me. At first, it was awkward, but as the time passes, it was fine, comfortable, actually. That became a routine, and a short span of time, I fell in love with Draco. It turns out that he felt the same way for a long time, since that Yule Ball in fourth year. At first, people at Hogwarts are not used to seeing us together – sitting beside each other in classes, our holding hands, and of course, the snogging. But like I said, they got used to it. Well, with Ron as an exception.

We got to our usual place near the Gryffindor portrait, in a dim alcove.

“Mione, uh, I just want to ask you something,” Draco said, stammering.

“What is that? Why are you acting like that?” I asked, confused.

“Well, are you sure of this?” he asked, raising our entwined hands up.

“So, you’re saying that…” I trailed off. He’s not going to break up with me, is he?

“No, not that, ‘Mione, it’s just that I’m not sure if ‘us’ is right,” he replied.

“Of course, this -us- is right! Why shouldn’t it be? What brought this up?” I replied fiercely, wanting to know why the bloody hell did he think that our relationship is wrong.

“It’s that we’re very different, like the two sides of a coin, never destined to meet. Why? Firstly, you’re Gryffindor, I’m Slytherin. Next, you’re a war heroine, and me – a war villain. And there’s always someone who disapproves,” he finished with a frown.

“Draco, of course there are people who will disapprove. We cannot please everybody. And besides, we are the ones who’ll live with this decision, not them, so why on earth will I care about what they think? Draco, houses don’t matter to me. And you are not a war villain, you are a war victim. A victim to Voldemort, we all ‘were’,” I reasoned. The crease on his brows disappeared when I said those words, but the uneasiness in his beautiful, grey eyes didn’t disappear, even a little bit.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he can, I kissed him in earnest, putting there all of my love for him. After long seconds, I pulled away.

“Draco, Heaven knows how much I love you. You shouldn’t doubt that. Please, just ignore those snotty people, okay?” I pleaded with my eyes.

“I don’t doubt you, Hermione, but I’m worried what will happen to me when you finally see that I’m not worth it,” he said with his head down and shoulders slumped.

“Mr. Malfoy, you are worth it. Don’t worry that pretty little mind of yours with things that need not be worried, alright?” I said.

“I don’t deserve you, ‘Mione,” he whispered.

That was my last straw. Irritated with this illogical discussion, and to prove that his worries are nothing but a waste, I took his face and kissed him again, with more fervor. After what I feel like ages, we separated, desperately needing air. When I regained composure and enough oxygen, I said:

“Drake, I know things are rough, and the stakes are high, but this love is ours. Ours. Not Ron’s, Zabini’s, your father’s, or to anyone else in this sodding universe, but yours and mine.” I kissed him one more time, before asking,

“What are you saying earlier, before I forget?” I smirked with success.

“People can throw anything at us, but they can’t take what’s ours. And I love you so much, ‘Mione,” he said, smiling. He put out that gorgeous smile which made me fall for him in the first place. He kissed my forehead.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” I replied before hugging him tightly.

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