They Don't Deserve You

Draco didn’t mean to linger. He’d just spent the last few hours escorting his date to the Yule Ball, being a perfect pureblood gentleman. He’d told Daphne to go on ahead; he wanted to be by himself for a while. She’d nodded absently, busy sneaking wistful glances at Blaise, who’d been pining after her since second year. It was getting rather fucking depressing to watch. So tonight had actually been Draco making the magnanimous decision to push the two idiots together. They’d both thank him eventually. He smirked at his own cunning. Slytherin, indeed.

He stood at the grand entrance to the Great Hall, drinking in the delicate beauty of the night. The last few stragglers—those in love—were slow dancing to the serene sound of the self-playing orchestra. Candles floated low now, casting a warm halo of light over couples wrapped in whispered conversations. Draco couldn’t help but note the intimacy of the scene before him, and he grimaced, suddenly feeling like an intruder. Maybe it was time for bed.

Making his way towards the Slytherin common room, Draco let his mind wander to the events of the night. Pansy making a crude comment that earned her a scolding from McGonagall. Theo laughing so hard at it that his drink flew out of his nose. Leading to more delighted laughter. Blaise stumbling over air when Daph descended the stairs in her ballgown. Hexing Snape’s cloak so it dragged him towards McGonagall every time he swished it dramatically. Ha.

His footsteps echoed softly through the dim corridors as he smiled contentedly to himself, the muffled sound of music fading into silence.

Then he saw her.

Granger. The bane of his fucking existence. Sitting alone on the sweeping staircase, heels in hand.

She hadn’t noticed him yet. Her head was hung low, shoulders hunched, and her updo had fallen into loose waves that framed her bare shoulders. The soft periwinkle ruffles of her gown cascaded around her like a shield, pooling gracefully on the stone steps. She looked regal, like a muggle queen.

But something made him pause.

She was…crying? What the fuck?

The sound was barely audible-low, broken sobs that created an ache in his chest. Her shoulders shook slightly, as though she was trying to hide her brokenness from the world. It was so soft, so contained, like she didn’t want to disturb anyone with her sadness.

A strange force tugged him towards her before he could do anything to stop it, and without thinking, he opened his mouth.

“Granger?”

His voice came out softer than intended, and he mentally berated himself for it. She stiffened at the sound, head jerking upward to meet his gaze.

Her usually kind brown eyes became defensive almost instantly. But less so than usual. She seemed tired. What had happened to her?

When Granger had made her entrance earlier that evening, the world around Draco fell silent. Every step seemed to command the attention of the room. The soft glow of dusk filtering through the glass ceiling caught her features in the most enchanting way, highlighting the constellation of freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks. She was a vision. All eyes were on her, and Draco couldn't help but scoff. She had looked absolutely stunning of course, but she always did. He'd seen it from the moment she'd stepped into his carriage on the Hogwarts Express looking for a toad.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy." She said it wearily, like she didn't have the energy to acknowledge him. Draco didn't know why, but that made him angry. Only he was allowed to make her feel like shit, and he hadn't uttered a single word to her tonight. So who did this to her?

"Hm, I think I'll pass. Why the fuck are you sitting on the floor crying?" He sneered with minutely less venom than usual. She seemed to be in a fragile state and he'd rather not make her feel worse, he realised.

Huh. That was a new feeling.

He brushed it off quickly before he could overanalyse what it meant. "Actually, you don't need to explain. It was Weasel and the Boy-Who-Can't-Fucking-Read-The-Room wasn't it?"

He scoffed. "Idiots."

She bit her lip. He continued.

"Like honestly. You'd think that after being friends with a girl for this long, they'd know how to behave. If I acted like such a shithead towards Pansy or Daph, they'd hex me into oblivion. Or gut me." He shuddered.

"Merlin knows I'd be too scared to think about spoiling their special night. And then there's the problem of Blaise and Theo. If they found out I'd left one of them crying by herself, they'd murder me. Literal murder. As they should. I'd likely want to drop off the Astronomy Tower myself. Clearly scarhead and the Weasel don't understand how to treat women. It's all in the upbringing, you know."

He rambled on. "I may not agree with all the pureblood supremacy bullshit, but at least we know how to value our women. Like they're fucking royalty."

She stared at him slack-jawed, eyes wide, cutting Draco's tirade short as he suddenly became aware of where he was, who he was speaking to. Shit. He just said all of that out loud.

The embarrassment came flooding in, threatening to drown him under a rising tide of discomfort.

"Ahem. Right, well. You should probably just ignore me and everything I just said. Um. I'll be going now." He knew his cheeks were that horrible baby pink Theo always made fun of him for. He wanted to die. Or for the ground to conveniently open into a void so he would fall through it and never return.

He turned quickly and willed his feet to move, needing to get out of this catastrophic situation, all while feeling Granger's warm honey eyes still staring.

But before he could flee and push this moment to the deepest recesses of his mind, his godforsaken mouth opened. Again.

"They're idiots, you know." It was quiet, barely imperceptible. "They don't deserve you. At all. I don’t think anyone really does."

Then, he left.

***

Hermione watched him leave, mind still reeling. She wiped a stray tear that sat on her cheek, and the corners of her mouth curved upward into a soft smile at Draco Malfoy's rapidly retreating figure.