A/N: My submission for the Dramione Fanfiction Writers: Never Apologizing for Our Wild Challenge

Inspired by Nikita Gill's "That First Kiss"

"The way you feel when you kiss him for the first time.
Like fire within your bones.
Like your soul has returned to the water.
Like every part of you that came from a dead star is alive again."

Ever since reading Eagle's Nest, I will forever imagine that the Ravenclaw common room has a private library. HeartOfAspen, thank you for this! And I think I remember a note in EN saying you got the idea from somewhere else, but I might be mistaken? Anyway, I love how our worlds and imaginations all become fused together 3

It was a Ravenclaw party… so what was he doing there?

Hermione stood in a circle of her friends, for once doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing. She had forgone the Head Girl or even Prefect appointments in her 8th year, and was finally enjoying a bit of debauchery. Taking risky action that had nothing to do with saving the world.

Harry and Ron hadn't followed her to Hogwarts, and given the way the year had been going, she'd actually been glad they hadn't.

She glanced around Neville's head and caught sight of the all too familiar shade of white blonde hair on the other side of the room. She'd become rather adept at spotting him, not that it had been difficult, but she'd had a lot of practice.

He was talking to Padma Patil and Hermione's stomach turned at the sight. They were just potions partners, that was all. The Ravenclaw twin just felt sorry for him; he'd received such an unwelcome reception at the start of the school year, and now that it was spring everyone's iciness towards him seemed to be melting. The weather, of course, had nothing to do with it. The passage of time coupled with his good behavior had caused a few students, Padma included, to warm to him.

Hermione wasn't one of the people being outwardly kind to him, but she spent a great deal of time observing him.

In fact, she'd begun to garner an obsession with Draco Malfoy to rival Harry's in their 6th year.

It had begun at the end of the battle, when he and his parents had been huddled together in the great hall as if unsure that their presence there was appropriate. Indeed, it had been arguable.

She hadn't noticed them at first, but as she walked through the room grasping the hands of friends in greeting and celebration, another hand had reached out and gently taken her arm.

When she'd looked up, she'd seen the sorrow filled face of Narcissa Malfoy looking back at her.

"Miss Granger," she'd said in an almost whisper.

Hermione had looked over the woman's shoulder to see that Draco and Lucius were looking at the pair with unreadable expressions. She had turned her attention back on Narcissa.

"I just wanted to... to apologize for... for what my horrible sister did to you in my home."

Suddenly, Hermione realized that Narcissa's hand was on her left forearm, her thumb grazing over the fabric of her sweater which covered the still-tender wound.

Hermione had been at a loss for words, but the woman had continued in a whisper.

"I know some treatments for the torture curse. Will you permit me to write to you in the coming month to share them?"

Without thinking too much, Hermione had said, "Yes of course."

Narcissa had smiled and released her arm, turning back to her husband and son, who had not taken their eyes off Hermione.

None of her friends had noticed the interaction and she hadn't mentioned it, though she was not sure why.

In the coming months, she'd engaged in a letter exchange with Narcissa Malfoy that had begun with talk of curse cures and later veered to entirely new subjects.

It seemed that the pureblood witch had felt trapped for years behind the persona she'd been forced to don, and was now free from that prison. Ironically, her husband was not.

She'd shared her very conflicted feelings of both missing her husband and hating him for what he got them all into. Hermione shared about her parents, and the devastating fact that their memories could never be restored. They'd discussed the plight of magical creatures who had sided with Voldemort, post-war restructuring of the Ministry of Magic, Hogwarts rebuilding efforts, and eventually… Draco.

Or rather… Draco was a topic peppered throughout Narcissa's letters. Ever the doting mother, she could not help but drop things in about him. His thoughts and opinions about the topics they were writing about, how he had changed because of the war, how well he was taking care of his broken-hearted Mum.

Without intending to do so, Hermione had become something of an expert on Draco Malfoy's life. His likes and dislikes (likes pumpkin pasties, dislikes bertie bott's) his post-Hogwarts ambitions (starting his own Apothecary selling potions to combat dark magic) and his newly found preference for non-pure blood witches.

These details had all come out subtly and in passing, so much so that Hermione had not even realized that for the last nine months she had essentially been being groomed to receive an Outstanding on the Draco Malfoy NEWT.

Whenever she'd seen him around the school, she would wonder whether he knew about her correspondence with his Mother.

If he had, he'd hid it incredibly well. She never caught so much as a sideways glance from him.

It was fine, though. It wasn't as though she wanted him to know. It wasn't as though she had an ever-growing desperate need to speak to him directly. As though she now saw him in such an incredibly different light and thought they could possibly be friends.

Oh sod it all, that was exactly what she thought, and if her illicit dreams about him were any indication, she thought about being much more than friends.

She screwed up her face and tore her gaze away from him just as he'd thrown his head back in a mirthful laugh at something Padma had said to him.

Since when was Padma Patil a bloody comedienne?

Neville noticed her distress and put a hand gently on her elbow.

"Everything alright there, Hermione?"

"What?!" she said, jerking her head up. He recoiled in alarm.

"Sorry Neville, just... I just realized I… mistranslated a rune on my exam today."

Neville scrunched up his face.

"We didn't have an exam in Runes today."

Her eyes widened. She forgot he'd taken up that class as well.

"Oh. Right. That is. I."

He leaned down and put a consoling hand on her shoulder.

"They aren't dating, Hermione."

"Who?"

"Padma and Malfoy."

"What? Who says I. Why would I care about-"

Neville rolled his eyes and smiled, giving her shoulder a squeeze.

"Hermione come on. I'd have to be blind as Harry's basilisk not to notice."

Hermione's insides filled with dread and she could not feel her legs. What were legs?

"Does... does everyone know?"

He let out a low laugh. "Nah, I doubt it. No one spends as much time with you as I do, and," he paused, apparently hesitating as to whether he should go on. "Well, no one else had his heart broken by you without you ever knowing you had it. At least not that I know of."

Her dazed look abated and she focused on him with confused determination.

"What?!"

He shrugged. "No worries, Hermione. I'm well over it. When things didn't work out with you and Ron, I thought maybe... but no, it became very apparent to me that you were in love with someone else."

"In love?! What?! What are you-"

"It's really fine, Hermione! If you hadn't unwittingly rejected with me, I never would have gone for Hannah, and we're quite happy."

He looked across the room to where Hannah was standing. She was in the same circle as Padma and when Neville smiled at her she turned briefly to her group and then headed their way. To Hermione's horror, Padma and Draco followed her.

Hermione let out a terrified squeak and then turned and bolted from the room without a backward glance. She slipped into the first door she saw and pressed her back against the door, panting with relief.

The sight that met her eyes made her gasp. A private Ravenclaw library stood before her, with a dome glass ceiling affording her a perfect view of the full moon and stars. Rows and rows of books, many of which she knew were not available in the main Hogwarts library, lay upon carefully curated shelves. A flurry of indignation ran through her at the thought that she'd been missing out on this for all these years as she ran her fingers across the spines.

Suddenly, an icy voice broke her reverie and resentment.

"You do know that the first place anyone will look for you is in a library, right Granger?"

She froze. He was there. Why was he there?

She wanted to turn around, wanted to speak, but found that she could not move. It was like one of those dreams where you tell your legs to run but they won't.

What even were legs?!

When she didn't reply, he began moving closer to her.

She could feel him, his very aura, moving her way. Cascading over her. It was an overwhelming sensation after so many months of never so much as exchanging a hello, or a sneer.

What she would have given even for a sneer.

She heard his shoes scuff to a halt. He'd stopped about halfway to her.

"Am I right in thinking you came in here to hide from me?"

She couldn't breathe. Could not think. Or was this thinking? How would one know whether one was thinking or not? Was that even possible?

"Granger?" he said, now closing the distance between them at an alarming rate. She spun around, intent on stopping his progress, but when she did so they were face to face with less than an arm's length between one another.

She gasped, and while he did not let his face show any particular emotion, she did see him swallow.

Her eyes lingered on his neck a beat too long.

When she looked up, their eyes met and she was engulfed in grey storm clouds.

Why was her predominant sensation fear? If she WAS in love, shouldn't that feel good? Not horrifying?

Maybe so, maybe not.

Perhaps because he was so known yet unknown. A complete stranger to her on paper, well unless you counted the letters as part of a budding relationship. Her relationship with Narcissa was more important to her than she'd ever expected it to become.

Here she was again, unsure what to expect. It made her blood run cold.

"If you knew I came in here to hide from you, then... then... why did you follow me?"

He blanched and she felt her stomach flip. She hadn't meant it to sound so... accusatory. She just really wanted to know, before she misinterpreted it and did something stupid.

"That sounded bad, I didn't mean it that way, I just... what do you want, Malfoy?"

She cringed. Bugger, could she speak?!

"Ah, I see," he began, shoving his hands in his pockets and, to her relief, smiling. "When you write to my Mum I'm Draco, but in day to day life I essentially don't exist to you, and when I do, I will only ever be Malfoy. Is that right?"

She wasn't in her body now. She was floating somewhere close to the celestial domed ceiling. Stars surrounded her, and she thought vaguely of the fact that humans were made of star stuff.

"Yes, I know about your quill-friendship... seeing as I have been given regular updates on it since its inception."

Something in Hermione's consciousness snapped her back to where she stood. An arm's length from Draco Malfoy. Face to face. Joking. Discussing her letters. Alone.

How did she get here? She attempted to examine her memories, but it proved impossible. They simply were not there. Her mind was a complete blank, and all that existed was this moment.

"You're going to drive me barmy if you don't tell me why you've been so diligently avoiding me, Hermione."

"Why I've... what?"

"Please don't pretend to be stupid, it's such a ridiculous farce from you in particular."

She blinked, only dimly registering the compliment he'd just paid her.

People are made of stardust and compliments can be currency. She felt the pull to repay him.

"I adore your Mother. I really treasure her friendship, which is something I honestly never thought I would say."

He took in a deep breath at her words, his expression unreadable.

"And I've been avoiding you because I'm confused."

"About?" he said a bit forcefully. She realized then that one-line answers were not going to suffice. She needed to lay it all out on the table.

"About... oh I don't know, Draco! I didn't expect to become owl chums or quill friends or whatever with your Mum! But that's what happened and I learned so much about so many things but especially about you and none of it matched with what I knew of you. Somehow you just existed as a character from her letters in my mind, totally separate of who you are here right now and I don't know, I just never knew what to say to you or if I should say anything at all!"

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity. Finally, a smirk spread across his face that held not a hint of snark.

"Thanks for your vote of confidence in my apothecary idea."

"Wh- What?"

"My Mum told me you thought it was a great idea. She also told me that you aspire to work in magical law and could have taken a job directly but chose to come back and finish your schooling. I told her that sounded like typical, swotty Granger. I got hexed for that comment."

He shifted on his feet and moved ever so slightly forward.

"She told me you feel guilty for not missing Potter and Weasley. That it's been nice to have Hogwarts for your own, for once. That was the first time my opinion of you changed."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he put a hand up.

"She told me that your favorite muggle book was Moby Dick."

Now she gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. The first edition she'd gotten over Christmas in an unmarked package. It had to have been...

He nodded. "I thought if I came upon you reading it, I could strike up a conversation, but..."

"You never saw me reading it... because I keep it on my bedside table, not wanting to risk losing it."

He let out a quiet laugh. "Yeah, that plan backfired. Most did."

She gasped at him. There had been more plans?! Did she even want to know?

"There was more than- but- when- why- and... if you wanted me to go about the castle reading a book then why get me a priceless first edition?!"

He grimaced. "Excuse me for wanting to give you a priceless gift."

"Why?!"

"What?!"

"Why!? WHY did you want to give me a priceless gift?"

"Because you deserve it, Hermione."

There was an innocence in his expression she had never seen. His chest rose and fell slightly as he stared at her in the wake of his proclamation.

"You deserve everything. What you've had to endure, it's… fantastically unfair. It kills me that any of it was at my hand."

Her eyebrows rose and fell, her breathing hitched. It was like being so thirsty for a drink and then presented with a firehose to the face.

"I hope you don't misunderstand me, though, I am well aware that no number of rare gifts or favors could make up for what I've done. I suppose I just wanted you to know that I… regret it. All of it. If I could take it back, I would."

Had she not become friends with his Mother, she wouldn't have believed any of it. She would be peering over his shoulder searching for Slytherin cronies in the shadows ready to pounce. Instead, she stood transfixed, watching him through watery eyes as he apologized to her for years of torment.

How strange it was to realize how long ago she'd forgiven him.

Probably around the time that she'd learned about him lowering his wand on the Astronomy tower.

"I don't expect you to accept my apology. I mean, I suppose I hoped that your friendship with my Mother might mean that you'd changed your opinion of me as well, but then you never acknowledged my existence. Apparently, you even run away to hide from me at parties as well, so perhaps I should stop hoping that we could be… friends."

He was pacing and rubbing the back of his head, staring at his feet as he went.

"Malfoy."

"I tried to ignore it at first, but you just became a regular installment in Mother's letters to me. The more she told me, the more I wanted to know… the more I hoped."

"Malfoy..."

"But then of course I'd see you here and nothing matched up. She told me that you hoped I was faring well enough, especially with the reaction my appearance at Hogwarts first garnered. It was maddening not to be able to talk to you."

"Draco!"

Finally, he looked up, almost startled to see her there.

"I would love for us to be friends."

He dropped his hand and straightened up, staring at her in confusion.

"Then why wouldn't you talk to me?"

She took a deep breath.

Because I've been harboring a very confusing and all-consuming crush on you for months and have had no idea what to do with such feelings.

What she actually said was, "I… I don't know."

"I take it my Mother hasn't shared her theory with you?"

She looked up at him with wide eyes, a doe caught in wand light.

"Her theory?"

Nodding, he said, "Well, I was pretty sure she was barmy, but now I'm not so sure…"

He examined her facial features with a delicate grin playing at his lips.

"What are you-"

"She thinks your indifference is a farce. That you… want to be more than friends."

Hermione's heart had surely jumped out of her chest. She began to speak, but wasn't connected to her thoughts. The words seemed to come through her rather than from her.

"She'd not barmy. Not in the slightest."

At first, he stood there frozen. His face made no reaction to her admission. He didn't even seem to be breathing. Then, he looked down at her hands and reached forward to take one into his, interlacing their fingers.

"It's so strange to think so often of this very thing happening, and then to have it actually occur," he said, still staring down at their hands.

She nervously cleared her throat and he brought his eyes back up to meet hers, grey and sparkling in the moonlight.

"I know what you mean," she whispered.

Then he gently pulled her towards him, closing the distance between them once and for all.

Bringing his other hand up to her face, he gently grazed her cheek with his thumb. She closed her eyes, both savoring the feeling and giving him permission to do the thing she'd been dreaming of for months.

Finally, and mercifully… his mouth was on hers, and the very bones in her body erupted in flame. She would surely disintegrate into a pile of ash and be reborn from the ashes.

Her soul left her body to swim in the reverie that surrounded them.

It was as though every part of her body made up of dead stars was suddenly alive again.

His lips were soft and gentle, and she could sense how purposeful he was being. He'd thought about this as well, wanted to make it perfect for her, wanted to give her everything.

In that moment, she knew that she would spend however long they had together trying to let him know that there was nothing he had to do. Nothing he had to prove. He had her forgiveness and no number of gifts or perfect kisses were necessary to maintain it.

In the meantime, though, she would receive whatever he wanted to give her, and pay him back in kind with her trust, friendship, and perhaps eventually… her love.