A beautiful little thing called trust (1)

This was the first time I felt a great deal of dread returning to school after the break. Nothing was going to be the same again ever since that day Malfoy and I walked out of the front door of the Weasley's house. Though I knew I made the right choice, part of me regretted having that confrontation. The good old days were gone, years of friendship with those who I thought would at least consider supporting me were in shambles.

All kinds of relationships are fragile, one minute you adore someone to pieces, then the next minute you take off the rose-color glasses and realize it's all in your hopelessly romantic mind.

I was sitting next to Draco Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express, just the two of us. We weren't talking, but instead of awkwardness, there was a sense of serenity. At this moment he was quietly reading a book, occasionally rose his eyebrow when the plot changed or thickened, and I was staring outside the window as usual, half observing the wonderful scenery for the second last time, half sulking in my tangled thoughts.

I feared the unknown: how would they react to me when we had to see each other again? Would they treat me like a stranger, or would they pretend and put on a friendly act?

The more I dwelled on this matter, the more I blamed myself for thinking too much on an issue that was no longer relevant.

"You look quite concerned," Malfoy lifted his head from his fictional world, "What troubles you? Don't tell me, let me guess."

He put his book down on the seat then scooted close to me.

"You are thinking about the Potter bunch, aren't you?" He squinted and put his hand on my thigh, "I've told you this before and I will say it again, you should stop wasting any energy on them."

"I know," I sighed, "It's just, well, you know, I think it's going to take some time to get used to."

"Get used to what?" He asked.

"Isolation?" I said, not knowing if that was the proper word to use, "You know what I mean, like how I'm used to have friends around in my House, and now I'm sure I'll become the outcast again."

"Pardon me if I'm too blunt," He squeezed my thigh, "These are the people who picked their side in a silly, childish game without even trying to listen to what you had to say. I cannot write off your past as they were never there for you, but I'm sure you are aware how people change, sometimes for better, and other times for worse. You will be just fine without them, Hermione, as I'm here with open arms."

"Since when have you become this sweet?" I laughed, "If last year this time someone told me that Malfoy would remotely say anything nice to me, I'd reply with 'you are out of your mind'."

"Instead of claiming try to get used to whatever the nonsense regard to the Weasley situation, you should try to get used to my kindness," He grinned cunningly, "You should feel special, as my compassion is a luxury to have and many others are dying and longing for it."

"Oh please," I said teasingly, "I'd argue very seldom people would beg for your compassion. The only one I can think of is Pansy Parkinson."

A flash of emotion that I wasn't able to read shone in his icy grey eyes. For a split second he appeared to be worried, but that faded into the light-heartedness he was just carrying himself with.

I wasn't sure if I should be concerned.

"Parkinson? Spare me with that name," He acted disgusted, "I haven't spoken to her since the beginning of September and I am certainly not planning to speak to her again any time soon."

"Really?" I asked jokingly, "You know, I never asked, but what was with you and Parkinson?"

"What do you mean?" He straightened his back and his expression turned into seriousness.

"Why are you so serious?" I was confused, "I'm simply asking what was going on between you and Parkinson before we started seeing each other? Everyone thought you two were an item, me included."

"Oh that," He relaxed a little and picked his book up again, "As a charmer I am, it was no doubt she was infatuated with me."

"Sure, and?" I shook my head with laughter, "What about you?"

"I don't know, I guess regrettably I kind of went with it," He curled his lips, "I was bored, and I needed company."

"So, you two were together," I pressed for more. For the past months our fake relationship turned real, I never bothered to ask about his past romances. And now my curiosity got me. He knew all about my history, who I was involved with, but I knew nothing of his.

"No, I wouldn't say so," He shrugged, "I just went with it, casually and thought nothing much of it. But I think she took it far too seriously than it ever needed to be."

"And she's okay now?" I became slightly worried, "She's okay with you ditched her for me?"

"Why would I care? I was never with her," He rose his eyebrow, "Like I said, I haven't spoken to her since September."

Seeing I wanted to continue with this topic, he quickly added:

"Let's not talk about her anymore. She's in the past. And the past shall stay in the past."